Invincible
by Willowfly
Summary: Life never used to be like this, used to take such a heavy tole. But things are different now. The walls are getting thicker, understanding's getting harder, and the dark is growing darker. In our minds we've become invincible. But still, we can broken.
1. Chapter 1: Night of the Dragon

Invincible

BY Willowfly

Chapter 1: Night of the Dragon

The late night moon had beckoned him here, to the city's high rise sky where everything was fair, everything was quiet, and for just one moment, all his problems disappeared. The chill November air stung him deeply as he ran, leaping across the gaping caverns to land silently on the next rooftop, ignoring the icy fingers that reached for him in every breath.

But no, he couldn't stop. He had to run, to get out of there, to breathe. The burning in his muscles numbed the anger that pounded in his brain, the icy wind chilled the raging fires coursing through his veins, and whatever Leo had said to him, whatever they had fought about, was forgotten now.

He clenched his teeth and leapt up off a rooftop ledge landing smoothly onto the next, never breaking the pattern, the rhythm of movements he knew so well. His blood boiled with the frustration that consumed him, the pulsing, silent thrum of his heart that whispered blackened truths into the night.

Leo wouldn't let him forget. As soon as he walked through that door, it would start all over again. He would make some snide remark about him being a hothead or a child for storming off like that, and he wouldn't be able to stop himself from ripping him a new one.

"Damn it!" he cursed aloud to no one when he stopped to catch his breath, one arm bracing him against a crumbling brick wall. His mind was screaming for more, but his body just couldn't take it. He'd been running for hours, and pretty soon, he would have to go back home and face him. Maybe Splinter would force him to apologize. The very thought made him cringe. He could already see the smug-ass expression spreading across Leo's face as he stumbled over half-hearted words. That was his Hell on Earth.

_But what's the difference?_ He thought, still gulping deep, huffing breaths of icy November air, _my life is fucking Hell on Earth anyway._

The adrenaline was pounding through his brain again, his heart racing in his chest. The rage was building, and pretty soon, he wouldn't be able to control it.

"Fuck you, Leo!" he roared over the rooftops into the polluted sickly orange of the New York City sky. His curse rang through the narrow alleyways and down into the streets, but Raph didn't give a flying fuck who heard him, he didn't care if he was seen. He had to find a way to get rid of the pressure building up inside his chest before it destroyed him from the inside out.

As if on queue, the heavens opened and released an icy downpour down onto the world below, sleet coating everything that lay within its path. Raphael grit his teeth and could see his breath escaping him in mad huffs into the moonlit air.

With another mad howl of rage, he clenched his fist and buried it deep into the crumbling brick. His knuckles didn't even care about the pain singing through them now. He focused only on the release. To hurt, to break, to injure something other than himself was an overpowering relief. His chest heaved with the rush, the power, the satisfaction.

Tonight was definitely a skull bashing kind of night.

He pushed off the wall and was running again, leaping, landing, jumping across the rooftops in a sequence he could do blindly. Casey's apartment was only a block away.

In a matter of minutes, he was swinging himself down from the ice-caked wrought iron fire escape and tapping lightly on his window pane. The whole apartment was dark, and nobody answered.

With a deep sigh, Raph made a fist with his good hand and rapped loudly on the window. With all the adrenaline singing through his veins, he was lucky he didn't break straight through the glass.

When no one answered again, Raph rolled his eyes and pressed his palms against the window pane, sliding it upward and letting himself in.

"Case? You here?" he whispered gruffly, looking around in the dark for any sign of life. Of course, there was probably all sorts of life living in the layer of crap that covered his apartment. Raph shuddered at the tingling sensation of imaginary insects crawling on his skin and pushed the thought from his mind. He was only interested in the bigger, more apish type of life that lived there amongst the garbage. He could hear snores pouring out from the other side of Casey's wooden bedroom door and let an evil grin passed over his lips.

_Time for a wakeup call._

Taking a few steps backward, he charged headlong for the door and leapt up into a graceless flying kick, busting the door down with enough noise to wake up the entire state of New Jersey.

But standing in the doorway, Raph frowned when he saw the lump that was his friend only groan and stir beneath the bed sheets.

"Casey, you cocksucking bastard, wake up!" he yelled hoarsely at the top of his lungs, but Casey only rolled over to his other side.

In one final attempt to wake the dead, Raph grabbed a protruding ankle and dragged his friend off the bed with an unceremonious thump onto the hardwood floor. With that, Casey flinched awake, eyes wild with confusion as he tried to figure out just how he had ended up on the floor.

"You awake?" Raph grunted, arms crossed over his plastron, causing the man to blink and squint into the dark to see the thing that had treated him to such a rude awakening.

"God damn it Raph!" he cursed, glancing upward to the clock on his nightstand. "You got any idea what time it is?"

"Time ta bash Purple Dragon skull" he retorted sharply without a trace of remorse for his groggy human friend, turning for the door that was now hanging by its hinges. "Let's go."

"It's fucking three in the morning!" Casey whined, struggling to untwist himself from the heap of bed sheets that had made the free fall down onto the floor with him and managed to stand clumsily.

"Yeah, whatever, Case, just… let's go. I caught wind that the Dragons got a huge shipment of coke comin' in off the harbor tonight."

"Doesn't Splinter make you guys wake up at like, six in tha morning?" Casey yawned sleepily, rubbing his eyes with the heel of his palms.

At that, Raph turned on his heel and shot Casey a glare. "Since when are you sucha prude?" he seethed.

Casey rubbed the back of his neck nervously. "Well, uh, Leo called me an' he said ta have you back before midnight if we go out 'cause you haven't been makin' it ta practice and…"

He cut himself short when he saw the seething, venomous glare Raph was throwing in his direction, both hands clenched into tight fists.

"You been fightin' with Leo again, haven't ya" he said lowly.

Raphael's glare only deepened. "Oh fuck off, Casey. What are you, my therapist?"

Casey was looking more nervous than ever and didn't say a thing, and Raph took that as his queue to leave.

"You comin' or what?" he said angrily over his shoulder, turning out the door.

"Uh… I…"

"You know what" he glared, walking towards the open window and refusing to wait for a response "screw you. I'm goin' and I don't care what you or that fuckin' prick says."

When he disappeared from the doorway, Casey took a step forward. "Raph… wait."

Raphael ducked back in the doorway, hot rage still lingering on his face.

"I'm comin' with you."

"Now was that so hard?" Raph said, grinning wryly in the doorway. He leaned down and picked up a pile of clothes from a heap on the floor, throwing them at his friend. "And nice boxers, by the way, flamingos really are your thing."

In the dark, Raph didn't have to see to know his friend was blushing. He chuckled a little under his breath and disappeared behind the door once again.

"Just hurry up" he grinned "I ain't gunna wait for you ta pretty yourself up."

"I'm goin', I'm goin'" Casey mumbled, stumbling through the bedroom door in the middle of pulling his sweatshirt on. "You must be really miffed at ya bro ta be this ticked off. I ain't seen you this steamed in a while."

"Yeah, well, Leo's got that effect on people" Raph said lowly, twirling one sai in his hand and examining its dagger point in the moonlight, waiting for Casey to take up his mask and golf bag stashed in a corner of his living room.

Slugging it over his shoulder, the man gave his friend an odd look.

"What were ya guys fightin' about anyways?"

Still clutching the sai, Raph shifted his eyes from its grisly point to the man that stood before him, grinning wryly.

"He said he don't want me stormin' outta the Lair, meetin' up with you an' 'puttin' myself in danger. Says the way I fight is dishonorable. So I said fuck him an' stormed outta there."

"An' met up with me" Casey added.

"An' now all we gotta do is find us some danger" Raph grinned, nearly giddy off the intoxication of rebellion. He pushed open the window and lifted himself out, waiting for Casey to do the same.

"Damn, Raph, ya didn't say it was fucking ten degrees and rainin' out here" Casey complained, hugging himself and shivering against the soaking cold.

"Ah, don't be sucha princess" Raph grunted, flipping up the fire escape and leaping onto a nearby roof. "Ya get used ta it after a couple a hours."

Casey snorted in disbelief, but whether that disbelief was directed toward Raph, or to himself for actually being dumb enough to follow Raph, he had no clue.

It took nearly twenty minutes to get down to the docks where Raph had caught wind of the drug rush going down that night. When the vigilante duo arrived, they could see a new boat had moored in the polluted harbor, surrounded by at least two dozen tattooed goons unloading plastic-wrapped boxes of coke that were by no means filled with soft drinks.

"When're these freaks ever gunna get the message?" Casey said angrily, perched on a rooftop beside Raphael with a bird's eye view of the night's activities.

"Ah, I dunno. Don't think they'll ever learn" Raph said dryly, shaking his head in disgust, but then quickly remembering his anger. He withdrew his sai and cracked a vicious grin. "But if they learned, then we'd got nobody to bash in every night of tha week."

"You're right, Raphie boy" Casey grinned, selecting a hockey stick from his collection of 'weapons' and pushing down his mask. "Let's go kick some ass."

With that, the pair leapt off their rooftop perch and dropped down into the thick of a swarm of Purple Dragon goons, standing slack-jawed and frozen with their feet rooted to crumbling concrete.

"Hey look!" came one startled cry "it's the freak and the psycho with the hockey mask" one moaned from a distance, someplace shadowed and undecernable where each goon seemed to blend into one.

Raph wished he knew which one of those idiots had said it. He grit his teeth and bared them like a savage animal, brandishing the dagger points of his sai in the moonlight. There was only one thing he hated more than when Leo acted like a dumbass… being called a freak.

"Careful who you're callin' freak" he seethed, a spark of coursing fire flickering behind darkened brown eyes as he glanced from one thug to the next, counting, taking it in, relishing the sweetness of justice yet to be done. The men lugging boxes had hence abandoned their burdens to the cool, sleet-covered ground, brandishing weapons of cutting blades and smiley chains, slicing though the frozen air.

The sleet came down in sheets now, pounding deafeningly against the ground and shoulders, covering all with blanketing icy chill, an impenetrable coldness that could never staunch the hellish fire raging in his eyes.

Tonight, the world burned for him.

And three words rang out into the night, calling over nature's frozen tears.

"Get 'em boys!"

And as if in a rush of a great tidal wave, they were upon them, swinging cutting blades and clumsy punches that would never even threaten contact as they both feigned and weaved expertly as if two blended into one. Casey swung his hockey stick, a long and sweeping arc that took many off guard, cutting their feet from beneath, causing its targets to crumple into a heap on the ground.

Raphael turned the blades of his sai inward in his hand, doling crushing blows of punches, accented with his weapon's pommel.

Many were injured, many lay bleeding upon that icy ground.

And it was then that Raph saw him… a rough-looking thug with a nose ring, swinging his smiley chain in violent arcs in his direction. Few of his brethren lay standing. Casey dealt with the rest. But this, this punk… he had hunger in his eyes. But behind the hunger burned a fearsome, defiant courage, something Raphael- the _freak_- could recognize, relate. If their circumstances had been different, they would have shared a common thread, a spark of understanding.

But now, they stood, two young souls weathered by the cruelty of an unjust and violent world, facing each other as enemies by that polluted harbor's edge, far from any shred of acknowledgement, forever turning the tides of perpetual motion, furthering the darkness of the world.

Before the kid could strike, Raph had his sai turned within his hands, those imposing blades flickering pristine steel in the failing moonlight tinged with hail. He caught the heavy chains between the tines and wrapped them tight around his arm, drawing the kid closer, facing him for that brief moment, dark fires burning behind hate-ridden eyes.

Raph almost hoped he was the one, the one to udder that disgusting word-f_reak- _and make him suffer for his wicked tongue, his violent disrespect of this warrior, this _creature_ that had him so mercilessly struggling in his grips. The mixture of disgust and fear, the sheer repulsion lingering there behind his eyes told Raph that even if he wasn't the one who had spoken, he had been thinking it all along.

The freak.

The putrid, disgusting freak.

In that flash of a moment, that flicker of connected glances, it all turned to dust before Raph's very eyes. Because that look of fear in the kid's eyes changed instantly into something devious, a vicious sideways smile that knew nothing but wrong.

Before Raph could stop him, there was a knife, the chains abandoned, slicing through the air. Raph's sai clattered onto the ground beneath the weight of the abandoned chains mixed with surprise and panic, that cutting blade glittering in the eerie darkness.

The gash carved hotly across his arm before he could stop him, a stream of blood trickling warm across his flesh, licking at it like the fire that burned within.

What happened next, was just a blur, a flutter of movement, strength, blood spattering on concrete walls, an addition to the latest graffiti until he lost himself in the stark beauty of it all, until the first rays of sun crept over the horizon.

Between Raph and Casey, they could have made short work of twenty four Dragons, but instead drew their battle out to almost unnecessary proportions, relishing every kick, punch, and broken bone they delivered into the endless sea of the criminal world until every body lay silent and unmoving, or else paralyzed by pain on that cold November ground.

And somewhere there behind him on the wall, a burst of crimson trailed downward into a vein of life now spattered across the open ground. A body lay in a heap and twist of limbs, more silent than the others.

He was dead.

He didn't have to check to know he was dead.

And he hadn't even retrieved his weapons. He had killed a man, felt his neck snap, beneath his own bare hands.

But he refused to know that now. He was focused on the task at hand, unloading endless glittering cascades of poison into the harbor below, watching as it mingle like blood on the concrete, blood mingling with the sleet, as it was swallowed into murky waters, never to be seen again.

One hundred pounds of crack cocaine were taken off the streets that night. And with that swirling powder swallowed by the sea, countless children would never have their lives ruined by dealers, families would never be torn apart, so many people, innumerable and forgotten, would never be killed for no reason. Because of what they did every night, thousands of lives were being saved. And for just one night, the world seemed to be a little more just. Sure it was rash, sure they enjoyed it a little more than they should, but it was all in the name of achieving the greater good.

A dent in the endless plated armor, a ripple in a blood-soaked sea, it would ultimately never make a difference.

But to all those that it touched, even the slightest nick mattered. To him, it mattered.

And if Leo could find no honor in that, he would still choose dishonor every time.


	2. Chapter 2: Questions of Honor

Chapter 2: Questions of Honor

When Leonardo heard the unmistakable sound of the Lair's metal door grinding open, he glanced wearily up from his tea, feeling as if the sound he heard was actually the grating wear of his very last, very raw nerve. He stared coldly at his hot head brother who was silently making his way to the refrigerator.

Feeling the tension that was buzzing in the air, seeing the wound stiffness of their brother's positions, and the heat of cold glares pounding through the room, Don and Mikey drew their eyes downward, suddenly became engrossed with their cereal, and prayed the previous night's argument would have been forgotten by now.

But the look in Leo's eyes told all. He wasn't going to let this go so easily.

"You didn't come home last night" he said coldly, dryly, taking another sip of his tea.

Raphael flinched, staring daggers into the freezer, and snatched out an ice pack. Slamming the freezer door shut, he turned on his heels to face his brother, throwing him a glare that was growing more viscous by the second.

"Yeah, what of it" he said slyly, plopping the ice pack on his now swollen and quickly bruising knuckles.

Leo studied his brother for a moment, eyeing the ice pack and the bruises underneath, as well as a nasty gash that now graced his forearm. It had stopped bleeding a while ago, but there was no questioning where or how he had gotten it.

"I thought we talked about this, Raph" he said with chill disappointment, shifting his weary gaze into his brother's eyes.

Feigning disinterest, Raph gazed at the clock on the microwave and sighed. He'd been awake a whole twenty four hours, and it took all his strength just to keep his heavy eyelids from closing. Still nursing his bruised hand, he pulled out a chair and plopped down at the kitchen table in his usual spot between Don and Mikey.

The whole room reeked of tension.

After a few minutes of awkward silence, Raph looked slowly upward towards Leo's expectant gaze, waiting with infuriating patience for his response. He threw a glare at him from across the table, shifted his ice pack and yawned loudly before he responded.

"I don't know what you want me ta say, Leo" he said lowly. "It's my life an' I'm gunna do whatever the fuck I want. I ain't gunna stop just because _you_ told me to."

Leo's eyes narrowed and he let out an exasperated sigh. "Why do you have to be so impossible, Raphael" he huffed with frustration. "Do you have any idea what kind of danger you could get yourself into?"

There was a pause as Leo glared into his teacup, searching for an answer, then slowly shaking his head when he found none. All three of his brothers could see the muscles in his shoulders tense before he slammed the cup down onto the table and shot a look at Raph. "You have no idea, do you? You just can't grasp the concept that your actions have consequences. Every time you go out there and act like a maniac, you're endangering this family."

Raph could feel the sleeplessness suddenly snap out of him. Now all he could feel was his returning rage. His ice pack abandoned, and the pain in his knuckles forgotten, he held fast onto the edges of the table until he fingers went numb.

Leo was glancing into his teacup again, turning it gingerly in his hand and frowning at the crack that twisted through the porcelain from being slammed down upon the table. "It's not like I should even expect you to understand" he sighed quietly "you're always too preoccupied with yourself to even think about what you're doing to this family."

Suddenly, Raph released the table and shot to his feet, chair clattering to the ground noisily behind him, making everyone but Leo flinch. He narrowed his eyes. "You think I don't care about this family!" he roared "you think I'm too selfish to even give a damn?"

Leo didn't flinch. He just sat there, coolly staring back at Raph, never moving a muscle. "Yes, that's exactly what I meant" he replied, only a hint of anger tainting his placid facade.

To the untrained eye, Leo seemed unfazed, uncaring, incapable of anger. But his brothers- they could feel the oncoming storm. They could tell by the slight twitch of his fingers rested upon the table, the tightly wound coils of the muscles in his neck, the square set of his jaw. He was reaching his breaking point, and it wasn't going to be pretty.

The air was thick with something like electricity, making it hard to breathe, as two sets of eyes darted between their feuding brothers, waiting for their queue to take cover when the fight turned physical.

And by the look in Raph's eyes, it wasn't going to take long.

"You little bastard" Raphael fumed, and with those three words, he was upon him, screaming just inches from his brother's face.

"You think you can control me, Fearless? You think what I do out there every night don't do no good fore nobody? It does, dammit! Every fucking night I do good for this city that _you're_ to _afraid_ to do. Ain't so fearless after all, are ya, Leo? To scared ta get your pretty little swords dirty?" He took a step back and gasped mockingly. "God… what would Splinter think if ya actually _helped_ someone for a change?" Anger blazed in his eyes as he ranted, heart pounding deafeningly in his ears. "What would he think if you went to the shady side of town and broke up a drug ring?" he gasped again "Perfect little Leo? In a crack house… _No. _He's too _honorable _ta take that crap off the streets, savin' peoples lives that don't concern him."

Now Leo was standing, staring unblinkingly at his brother. "It isn't our fight, Raph" he said as calmly as he could manage, speaking through clenched teeth. "What you do, the way you fight, it _is_ dishonorable. It's a disgrace to our family and our training. It's a disgrace to the ways of Bushido."

"Honor my ass" Raphael spat, emphasis on every syllable as he pressed an accusing finger into his brother's plastron. Leo took a step backwards, that same dangerous look flickering in his eyes. Raph growled lowly. "Quit the act, Leo, you don't know tha first thing about honor."

Before he could pull away, Leo reached up and grabbed his brother's wrist, holding it tight, drawing him closer. A consuming fire quickly swept through him, darkening his features. "Don't you _ever_ question my honor, Raphael" he seethed refusing to relax his grip.

"Let me go, Leo" Raph warned, his voice a low, feral growl. His glare was just inches from Leo's, burning holes into each other's skulls "or I swear ta god I'll kick your ass."

But Leo just stared, silent, cold, and unmoving, pouring silent rage into his brother's eyes. Raphael drew back with his other hand for a bone-crushing punch that was halted in midair before it could deal its striking blow.

From behind, Master Splinter had cleared his throat.

Forgetting their attempts at disinterest, Don and Mikey's eyes grew ever wider as they looked on without a trace of shame, glancing between Leo and Raph, then back to Master Splinter. They knew it would get ugly.

Leo quickly released Raph's wrist as if it had burned him, then bowed deeply to his master. "Good morning, Sensei" he said solemnly, then turned back to his seat at the kitchen table as if nothing had even happened.

Don and Mikey just gawked, unable to peel their eyes away. Their cereal had grown soggy long ago.

"What do you make of this, Raphael?" the old rat said cryptically, turning his glance at his fuming son, arms crossed tightly over his plastron with his teeth grit. The three remaining brothers could see his jaw muscles working beneath his skin as he bit the anger back.

"What's that, Sensei?"

He was trying to act clueless, maybe convince him it was the tv he had heard and not the savage argument Leo had so perfectly brushed away. But Raph couldn't let it go that easily. His voice was tainted with rage.

Splinter eyed him, his expression unreadable, and yet, his eyes seemed to pierce right through him. When he spoke, his voice was firm. "I heard the argument, my sons, and I will not tolerate it in my house anymore. Such negativity does not belong within these walls. You are brothers, there is no reason for such bitterness."

Leo was on his feet again, his attempt at indifference shattering to pieces. Now, he just looked outraged.

"Master Splinter" he sighed in exasperation, brow knit in his apparent frustration "Raphael has been disappearing every night this week. He turns his cell phone off and doesn't come home until morning. I'm sorry to involve you in our arguments, Sensei, but I believe he is endangering the lives of this family and himself."

If Raph wasn't angry before, he was now. His aura of rage was practically visible to the naked eye. "You little shit" he seethed between clenched teeth, just loud enough for Leo to hear and quiet enough so that Splinter wouldn't knock him upside the head.

Leo's glare was gone from his eyes now, replaced only with pure and genuine look of concern. And now Splinter was looking at him in the same way. It made his gut feel like it was swimming laps inside him. At that very moment, he would give anything, absolutely ANYTHING not to be in that room under the weight of those nauseating stares.

"Screw this" he huffed, turning for the door "I'm goin' ta bed."

But Splinter's rough paw was on his carapace, causing him to turn. His gaze was enough to root his feet to the ground. "You will stay, Raphael."

Before he exploded at his Sensei and dug himself a deeper hole, he had to release the frustration boiling his bones. Turning around behind him, he glared at Don and Mike still ogling at the scene from the kitchen table. If their eyes were any wider, he'd swear they were nocturnal.

"What the hell are you two lookin' at? GET OUT!" he roared, sending his younger siblings into a fit of panic. With a clang of dropped spoons and the hurried scraping of wooden chairs, the two turtles sprinted out of the room as if it had recently caught on fire.

With a small satisfied sigh, Raph turned his glare back to Leo, then glanced at Master Splinter who was looking quite befuddled.

"Sorry Sensei" he growled "they were gettin' on my nerves."

The old rat looked defeated the way he nodded sadly and turned his eyes to the floor. "Perhaps another time I will instruct you on the art of discretion, Raphael."

Raphael's shoulders slumped slightly. He was getting tired of being lectured real quick, and having Leo there, peeking over Sensei's shoulder like some kind of prissy parakeet was really grating on his last nerve. For good measure, he threw him another venomous glare then turned his gaze back to Splinter.

"Leo just don't understand what I'm doin' up there. He thinks I got no honor fightin' anyone other than tha Foot. But there's people worse than the Foot out there Sensei, an' people worth savin' too."

Splinter nodded solemnly. For a fleeting moment, Raph lit up like a Christmas tree because for the first time in his life, it looked like his father actually _understood_ what he was saying. He was busy preparing Leo's victory speech until the old rat began to speak and his heart sunk to the floor.

"The surface world is indeed a place of many evils, Raphael. Many innocent people suffer at the hands of the wicked every day. But it is not our duty to play gods in the world of men, my son. This battle is not your own."

"N-Not my own!" he stuttered angrily, shooting Leo another glare. But he was too busy looking pleased with himself to notice. _Damn it Sensei, why'd you always hafta take his side?_ He fumed internally. "you can't expect me ta just watch from the sidelines just because the fight ain't mine! I make it mine, Sensei. If I didn't help, these slime bags'll just walk free up there. I can't just look tha other way! I won't !"

His fists were balled up against his sides, but at least his apparent, terrifying anger was enough to wipe that smug look off Leo's face.

"I do not expect you to watch idly by as crimes take place in our city, Raphael."

His fists unclenched. He couldn't believe his ears. "Really?"

"Yes, my son. I believe that if you cannot witness these crimes, then you will not feel the need to intervene. You are not leave the Lair unless you are accompanied by your brothers."

Raph gawked, utterly horrified as his sensei's words pierced through him like hot daggers. In one fail swoop, one single sentence, all his freedom was stripped away. "Sensei! That's not fair! I can't stay down here, I'll go insane!"

"You can and you will" said the old rat firmly. "Until you prove to me that you will take responsibility for your actions and accept that you are not invincible, you will remain below ground. Before then, two hours of extra training each day."

At that moment, every curse in his vocabulary ran through his brain, silently directing every one of them at Leo. His fists were clenched again and this time he couldn't ignore the pain. _Oh, Leo's so gunna pay for this._

"Fine" he spat through clenched teeth, knowing that soon he would explode. He tried to turn around, to walk the other way, to ignore the world like Leo did so well, but he couldn't. He can't. With no one left to blow up at, he flipped the entire kitchen table on its side with a deafening clatter as everything on top shattered onto the ground, leaving behind a battle field of soggy cereal and broken glass.

"Raphael!" Splinter said sharply, making him flinch. "Your anger is a poison. Learn to control yourself."

"But I can't, Master Splinter! I can't just sit around when tha scum of the earth is walkin' free! I can't stay down here when I can do somethin' about it!"

The old rat sighed deeply when he saw the anguish behind his son's eyes. He truly did mean well, but letting him carry down the path he was heading would surely get him killed, injured or exposed. Of his four sons, Raphael was by far the most head strong and impulsive. He was passionate about his beliefs to the point that he would endanger himself first and think of the risks later. Every time he vanished, he would return with injuries that increased in severity each time. It made the old rat's heart leap within his chest just to think what would happen the next time, wondering if that night would be the night he never returned.

He sighed wearily at the thoughts that were coursing through his brain, eating his mind away until only fear remained. Now, he had learned to only expect the worst, because it almost always came true.

"I fear for you, my son" he said quietly, watching his son's breathing slow with weary eyes. His fists unclenched and expression softened.

Behind him, Leonardo silently left the room.

"I'll be fine, Sensei. Those goons don't know tha first thing about fighting."

The old rat relaxed slightly. Raphael's voice had lost its cutting edge. "Yes, though these criminals also know nothing of honor. They will use tactics that do not obey the code of Bushido. They fight only to kill, and they will use any means necessary to do so."

"Really Sensei" he shrugged "it ain't nothin'. Takes a lot more than that to take me down."

Before he could blink, Splinter snatched his arm with one wiry paw, holding on as if he would soon fade away. There was a look of fear lingering in his eyes, running deep enough to make his stomach swim with guilt.

"These threats are real, Raphael, though you do not seem to understand. You cannot deflect bullets, your skin is not steel against a blade's cutting edge."

"Yeah, you're tellin' me" Raph said glumly, examining the gash on his arm. At least it wasn't painful, but it did look gnarly.

Master Splinter's ears drooped a little at the tips as he gave a long exhale. The lesson was obviously going unlearned for now, but soon enough he would have to break through, or risk losing the life of his son.

No matter what, he would never be willing take that risk, no matter how much good in the world it created. As far as he was concerned, there were two worlds: the world of men and the world below the surface, his world. And as always, his world and his family would come before the world of man, no matter what consequences it may hold.

No evil in the world of men could be great enough to willingly cost the lives of his sons. Never would he allow such a thing to happen. That was why he had to be so harsh to Raphael. His punishments were meant to teach the lessons only harsh reality could speak so well. He could only hope he would listen hard enough to learn before it was too late.

"Please allow Donatello to look at your injuries, my son" he said with a sigh "then I will see you in the dojo. Your first lesson will start today."

Raph rolled his eyes before making a small, impolite bow to his master. "Ok, Sensei" he said gruffly, then turned and strode out the door on the way to Donatello's lab.


	3. Chapter 3: Walls

Chapter 3: Walls

Donatello flinched at the sudden tap at his door. He spun around quickly in his chair to answer it, only to see his brother 's dark form already standing there like a wraith among the shadows, chuckling to himself.

"Did I sneak up on ya, Don?" he jeered, arms crossed over his plastron, looking unintentionally formidable. Part of it was the heat of the argument still lingering in his veins, but mostly it was just his nature. Appear untouchable at all times. It was an attribute Donatello never could quite understand.

As a kid, Raph never used to have such an imposing air about him. In fact, he had been quite the opposite. The brunt of his three brothers' cruel childhood jokes, it was easy to reduce him to tears. Don remembered well the Raphael who wore his heart on his sleeve, those wide, tear-filled eyes right before he turned and ran from their cruel laughter to sob himself to sleep.

There was so many things different from the Raph of memory and the brute that stood before him now, no longer soft and weak but imposing, pupils still dilated with an air of adrenaline, his thick muscles tense and daring for anyone to venture too close.

As for that wide-eyed child, he must have died a long time ago, because all that was left was a wall, heavy, thick, and metallic. His eyes no longer clear and deep, but opaque and hazed in fog.

"Um… no," Don lied, his heart still thrumming quickly in his chest "I was just doing some _creative rewiring_ on the security sensors and you… surprised me."

He was transparent as window glass. Raphael cracked a crooked smile.

"Uh huh," he chuckled. He could see the wild expression in his brother's eyes, darting from place to place like a cornered animal, the way he was still holding his screwdriver like a weapon, and knew his heart was still pounding in his ears. "You were zoned. I saw ya jump like three feet in tha air."

Don only gave him a sheepish smile when he realized the screwdriver in his hands and placed it down onto the workbench.

"Splinter says he wants ya ta have a look at me."

"I knew he would" Don said, smiling warmly as he stood. He crossed the cluttered room, tiptoeing around heaps of scrap metal and snares of tangled wires, and grabbed the brown metal toolbox he used as a first aid kit. Setting it down on the workbench with a metallic thump, he started rummaging through.

"I dunno how you can even find anything in here, Don." He said, eyes scanning the shadowed outlines of heaps of computer parts. "It's worse than Mikey's room in here."

"Worse than your room," Don corrected, not looking up from the task at hand. "Nothing's worse than Mikey's room."

Raph snorted in agreement, uncrossed his arms and made his way over to a wooden stool that sat in a nearby corner.

"Besides," Don continued, "have you ever heard of the term 'organized chaos'?" he said with a smile, peering over the metal lid of the first aid box and withdrawing a white roll of gauze and a bottle of antiseptic. "Now let me see that cut."

Raph winced as he held out his arm, not because of the cut, but because the pain from his knuckles was searing all the way up to his elbow.

"Yikes."

"Stitches?" Raph asked glumly.

Don shook his head. "No, the cut looks fine. Your hand looks terrible."

Raph made no comment, only stared blankly back into his brother's eyes, cool as stone.

"Guy or wall?"

Now Raph looked confused, but in his eyes, it still was hard to tell. "Huh?"

"I mean, did you do it punching a person or a wall?" Don clarified, trying not to sound too snide.

"Wall" he exhaled quickly, almost guilty, his clouded eyes searching the room for nothing in particular.

"I knew it."

"How did you know?" Raph asked, wincing as his brother examined the bruises closer, despite his gentle touch.

Don's eyes snapped up. "Beside the fact that no person is made of solid rock, how could I not know?" There was almost a trace of humor in his voice. "You always are punching everything in sight when you get angry. But why walls? I mean, you're lucky you didn't break anything."

"They're there" Raph shrugged "usually the first thing I see."

"Oh" Don mused quietly. Silence lingered for a time as he cleaned and bandaged his brother's wounds.

"I don't know why you can get so zoned on a toaster" Raph snorted after a time, breaking the thickness of silent tension with a change of subject.

Don chuckled to himself.

"I mean, if I was gunna attack you or somethin', ya woulda been dead over a _toaster._"

Don turned his gaze to meet his brother's, all laughter suddenly drained out of him. When he spoke, he spoke slowly, deliberately.

"But you wouldn't, would you."

"Huh?" Raph stared, shaking his head. "Man, I don't get you sometimes."

"Attack me" Don said firmly, holding his gaze.

Raph's eyes grew wide. "No, never." He shifted uncomfortably on his seat. "Don, why are you askin' me this?"

"I'm not asking. It's a point of observation. You would never intentionally attack Mikey or me unless it was a training exercise, would you?"

There was no question in his simple answer. "No."

But then Don's expression changed into something completely unreadable. "But Leo… would you…"

Raph let out a breath and turned his eyes to the ceiling, praying to whatever gods were up there to end the conversation _now._ "Don… could you just shut up an' finish already" he said gruffly, refusing to meet his gaze.

But Don was determined, he continued steady as stone, refusing to let his breakthrough pass and die. "If you were angry enough, if you had the chance, would you hurt Leo intentionally?"

Every syllable had an edge to it, not meant to cut, but designed to pick him apart, piece by piece until every little hidden piece, every clockwork movement that hid so well behind thoes walls was finally exposed.

Raph's eyes searched the shadows around him, praying for an answer. He was certain that the gods couldn't give a shit about him tonight, or any other night for that matter, because Don just wouldn't let this go. His eyes never left him alone. His hand was only halfway wrapped and he knew Don wouldn't finish until he was satisfied. He had to answer, he had no choice.

He sighed deeply, letting his chest rise and fall, then came up with the only answer he knew to give. "If somebody stands in my way, I ain't makin' no guarantees."

"But if it was me" Don said quickly, continuing to wrap the bandages "would you attack me if I was the one standing there?"

Raph quirked a brow and stared, puzzled. "What do ya mean, Donny?"

"I mean, if I was to ask you to stop, to not go out and do what you are doing, to not head down the path you're sure to travel, would you attack me like you do Leo?"

Raph's gaze softened for a moment, but that flicker of light disappeared as quickly as it had come. He built back the barriers, turning hard as rock and exhaled slowly, audibly.

"It scares me, Raph" Don said quietly, finishing the bandages on his hand and moving on to the cut. His voice had lost that calculating sterility, no longer a game of twenty questions, using his troubled brother as some type of sick science experiment, but feeling, for the first time in a long time, that Raphael wasn't just a dense, thoughtless brute, a creature born of anger, but his brother, that same little wide-eyed kid he remembered locked behind thoes metal walls.

"It scares me when you leave and don't come back, when you come home wearing someone else's blood." He paused, breathed, barely believing he had gathered up the nerve to say what he was saying. "Because I think it's _your _blood."

"Don, come on, not you too" Raph groaned, irritated, rolling his eyes.

"Yeah, me too" Don said firmly. "It doesn't bother me when you're gone for an hour, or even three hours, but when you leave and don't come back, I can't stop myself from thinking the worst. I never know when _this time_ will be the time you don't come back. I have no way of knowing when the day will come that your choices finally get the better of you and your left dying in some back alleyway alone and far away from here. I'd never know until morning came and you didn't come back. It would be too late by then."

He wanted to get angry. He really wanted to, but he couldn't. Not at Don. Never at Don. How could he be angry? Even though he was saying the same things Leo did every single day, it was the _way _he said them that struck a chord. There was no trace of venom, of irritation, of disappointment, only true, genuine concern and fear. But that was Don. All he ever meant was well.

So he didn't say anything. He didn't even flinch. All signs of anger were scattered on the wind somewhere far away from where he sat, replaced only by guilt, by pride for his kind-hearted little brother who had the courage to be the person he could never be, by shame for what he had become.

Don was right. Nothing he could ever do would make Raph want to hurt him. Don and Mikey, they were his little brothers, and as much as they loved to grate on his nerves, he would never even think of hurting them. Never.

But there was another thing Don right about. Leo was an entirely different scenario. He was the oldest, the kiss-up, the irritatingly perfect favorite son. He didn't need protecting, and sometimes, it was like he almost enjoyed getting hurt. He asked for it. Just by being alive, he asked for it. Sure, his little brothers were a pain, but Leo, he knew just how to rub him in all the wrong ways. He not only got on his nerves, he took a belt sander to them, a hacksaw, anything sharp, cutting, and irritating beyond belief. He grit his teeth just thinking about it.

No one said a word in the lab as Don finished winding the bandages, cut the end with a pair of thin silver scissors, and sent him on his way.

No one said a word because Don's eyes had told it all. He wasn't ordering him like Leo. It wasn't a demand. He was begging, _pleading_ him to stop.

But as Raph turned and left the cluttered lab, only one thing sat heavy on his mind.

He couldn't stop. He wouldn't stop. It was a part of him as much as it was a part of the city itself. It was his breath, his blood, his life. He would fight until the very end, even if it did kill him one day.

If he died alone in some trash-strewn alleyway, that was how it was meant to be. Just like the way he lived his life, he would at least go down fighting, taking with him as many scummy, evil bastards with him as he can.


	4. Chapter 4: Hymns of Innocence

Chapter 4: Hymns of Innocence

There was nothing, nothing left for him now with his freedom stripped away so easily, snatched away like something trivial, something stupid, something that didn't matter. Splinter- he would never know the blows he had dealt his son that rising morning, the sickening twist he felt grip his insides when the old rat issued his final sentence, that crushing death-blow to the countless, faceless many.

It was moments like these that Raphael hated himself a little more, simply because he was Raph, not Mikey, not Leo, not Don, but cruel, explosive Raphael that had not even the slightest sense of self control. But mostly, he hated himself simply because he cared. He cared so damn much about people he didn't even know that he would risk it all- put his life, his family, his sanity on the line.

If it had been any one of his brothers, the argument never would have happened, it never would have turned as ugly as it did. But he was Raph, and it always seemed to turn out ugly in the end whenever he was added to the mix, because he cared when the others didn't, because he knew the darkness they refused to see.

None of them could ever understand, and that's what plagued him now. The sheer frustration, their blindness, their uncaring ignorance about everything he stood for- that was why he felt familiar pangs of anger boiling in his guts now, the winding coils of his muscles, the gritting of his teeth. That was why, in an act of simple defiance, he walked past the dojo door and leapt to the second story, slamming his door behind him. That was why he was shut in his own room, stuck brooding to himself with his angriest music playing far too loud on the shelf above his bed, angered to near tears at the sheer injustice of it all.

None of his brothers knew what it was like to care about the world above the way he did. Somehow along the years of living underground, they had managed to ignore the gnawing injustices of the world above, managing to blind and deafen themselves, turning their hearts to stone in any way possible, pretending the world wasn't the stained, blood-soaked realm Raphael saw in his dreams and waking hours every time his lungs met midnight air. They were innocent, ignorant, dazed by their own imaginations, untouched. But Raph- he knew the truth. He knew all too well darkness that dwelled in alleyways, a dark that stretched far beyond the cloak of night. He had seen it all with his own hate-filled eyes, becoming ever more bitter and world-weary with each mugging, every rape, every robbery he witnessed, every drive-by shooting where some innocent kid got killed in the crossfire, every ounce of drugs sold to kids so young they were practically still children, poisoning their lives forever, banishing themselves to this never-ending world of perpetual darkness.

And Raph couldn't help but feel a little poisoned too. The world had showed him many evils, cut him deep and bled him dry until all that was left was rage, the consuming fires of hate. Often he wished he could be like someone else, to stomp out the fire that burned him every night and day, and simply stop caring. To be Mikey- innocent and carefree, submersed in a world not entirely reality, full of fiction, wonder, excitement, illusion… but that wasn't how it was. The world never had a thing to offer them, never had a place for them to live, a niche for them to dream. In the eyes of the world, they were freaks. They were outcasts.

But none of his brothers could see it. Don- he filled his life with invention, learning, wondrous things that would blow the mind of any modern day scientist in the hope that someday he would contribute, someday, he would be known, help others, save lives, astound. But Raph- he knew that was nothing but a lie, a dream. His brother never would be known. His secrets would be taken to the grave- the secret of his very existence well kept.

Leo- he had his honor, his training, his bushido. He trained and learned the ways of the masters, followed disciplines of art, meditation, combat. He studied night and day, submersed in books of Japanese proverbs, arts of war, history, fables, culture, technique. But Raph- he knew his brother was talented, as much as their rivalry clouded his judgment, he could never deny Leo's ability, his dedication, his pursuit of perfection. But also, he knew that some day, it would all go to waste. Sure, he and his brothers had saved the lives of many- stopped the world from ending many times over, halted an alien invasion, ceased a detrimental and horrifying virus from spreading through the world, cracked open government conspiracies… and yet… Leo would never be what he was truly meant to be. Because his brothers, all of them, were dreamers of one sort or another. Their heads were filled with brightness, ideas, skills, dreams… none of them ever to reach their primes, their potentials.

As for Raph… he was a realist. His way of life, his only dream, was to live balanced on a knife's edge, suck the vigor out of what it had to offer, and take down as many slimy, evil bastards he could with him when he finally teetered to his death.

Mike is the dreamer.

Don is the engineer.

Leo is the warrior.

Raph- he's the realist, shadow, the avenger. That was his definition, and that's what scares his family to death.

If he had seen only the evils of the world he vowed to protect, it would have been easier for him to turn his back, to walk away, to make his family happy and pretend for a minute that it wasn't his obsession. But he had seen those kids too many times, the filthy street urchins, the daughters and sons of drug dealers and whores. He had watched them playing in the streets just before twilight fell on hot summer days, the innocence not yet leeched from their wide young eyes as they played their games of stickball, hopscotch, jump rope to the rhythm of silly little rhymes. Rhymes set to the pulse of the city, rhymes that played along the groan of engines and car horns, the cry of venders and beggars, the sound of gunfire calling through the night- predictions of the future yet to come. The hymns of innocence lost. This was his reason, the reason for the fire that burned inside him now, the reason he did what he had to do, the reason for who he was.

How could anyone even begin to understand… freedom was the air he breathed, that driving force that kept him from wanting to tear off his own skin, from imploding from the inside out, from losing control of everything. It was the knowing, the sensation of pain that kept him planted firmly on the ground, the justice he knew he could bring to the world that let him sleep at night, that gave meaning to his every breath.

He didn't want to forget. He wanted to fix it, to save them all. So instead, he let it burn. He would never stomp it out, he would never let it die, simply because he couldn't. He was just as poisoned as those dirty little street children, the beggars, the whores. They were made of the same material- born from the scraps of poverty and filth, and even if none of them ever knew he existed in that unseen world below their feet, he was every part of that cursed city- those dark, polluted streets- than they were. He could never let them down.

The surface was his great release, the night air robbing him of everything but breath, instinct, pain, leaving him hollow and mechanical until the fire in his eyes burned out enough to stand living in his own flesh. It was the random acts of violence, the moments of hopeless surrender, the animal-like savagery that chased away the nightmares, that let him see more clearly, to build back the walls and return home again, cleansed, baptized in the blood of the wicked, sparing the blood of the innocent, the world whose polluted blood he shared, unknowingly their savior, their kin.

Sitting back in his hammock, he shut his eyes tightly against the world like an iron curtain and lost himself to the sea of rolling bass and music that pumped through the stereo. It was then he had caught himself thinking of his obsession, of his life, and nearly let a laugh, cold and humorless, escape from his lips. He wanted to laugh at the sheer absurdity of it all, for wanting to change, for thinking that he can, for thinking that his brothers would ever truly learn to understand.

They would never, could never understand because when they looked at him, all they saw was simple, stubborn, hot-headed Raphael, too wrapped up in his own misery to acknowledge anything but his own screwed up emotions. He was the instigator, the vicious, provokeable storm that raged like wildfire at the slightest touch. They never even bothered to look at him deeper than the surface, and he never allowed them to gaze upon it either. It was a wall he worked hard to build over the years, a thick skin that dared a soul to penetrate.

Don and Mike- they only believed he was simple because that was what Leo said, what he had made himself believe. It was his diluted rationalization for the complete lack of control he had over his younger brother. Over the years, keeping him in line had become more like breaking the spirit of a bull than breaking through his brother's tough exterior- the shell he knew, in the deepest shadows of his mind, that he had helped to build.

He of all people should know exactly what dwelled below. But sometimes, Raph thought his brother had forgotten the part of him that seemed to have died so long ago, the part that had seemed to be lost with fading innocence, the part of him he so completely hid away.

But it was there. Buried deep, scarred, and world-weary, yet it was still there.

He kept his eyes closed for a while, lost in the twisting realms of his own thoughts, his brain replaying images of a boy- grey eyes- a glittering knife- sleet- stains on the concrete- the audible snap of a neck- a crumpled body. Dead.

This was his life. All those images, those sounds, they were him- his life.

Pounding- anger- _freak_- snap- sleet- cocaine in the harbor- a dead boy, not much older than himself. Seventeen years old and dead by his hands.

He shut his eyes tighter as if he could forbid his brain from functioning, tried to drown it in the music, tried not to imagine himself crumpled against that wall in that boy's place, but the images still played on a loop in his mind, all the while echoing an ominous chant…

Too far.

He'd gone way too far.

Raphael nearly jumped out of his shell when he sensed movement shifting beside him. Wearily, he cracked an eye open and frowned to see Leonardo standing there, any words that escaped his lips drown by the blasting stereo, but with an expression of impenetrable displeasure painted across his face that spoke volumes. His arms were crossed across his plastron, glaring down at his brother like something had disgusted him, lips drawn tightly into a perfect line.

Raph groaned loudly in displeasure, turned and threw a pillow over his head until suddenly, the room went silent.

Raph peeked out from beneath his pillow and shot Leo a poisonous glare.

"Hey, what tha fuck! I was listenin' ta that."

But Leo didn't flinch. He just stood there, like stone, arms crossed with the same haughty frown chiseled upon his face. "You're _supposed_ to be training."

Raph sat up suddenly, never losing his glare, letting his pillow fall forgotten onto the floor. "Do you really think I'm gunna listen to a word you say right now?" he seethed, eyes narrowed as he pressed his finger into his brother's plastron.

Leo sighed, letting his shoulders fall as if a great weight was pressing down upon them. Rolling his eyes, he breathed and took a step away to avoid his brother's finger. "Master Splinter told you to go to the dojo after Don cleaned you up, remember?"

"Oh, fuck off Leo. Get outta my room. Who said you could come in here anyway?"

"Sensei sent me to drag you out of bed, so get up or I'll have him come in here instead."

For a moment, Raph only glared before mumbling darkly "Splinter Junior."

"Oh, give it up Raph, stop acting like a child and get out of bed before Sensei gets even madder at you then he already is. You really screwed up this morning, if you've forgotten, so you're in no position to be stubborn."

"If you haven't noticed" Raphael seethed through his teeth, every syllable uttered with a cutting edge "I ain't slept for twelve straight hours, so I'm not bein' stubborn, your highness, I'm fucking exhausted."

Leo shifted uncomfortably on his feet, but never broke his glare. "Do you seriously think I have any pity for you after what you've done? You did it to yourself, Raph" he scoffed, turning for the door. "Now are you coming or do I have to tattle on you like a five year old?"

"Shut up Leo, an' quit pissin' me off."

"Not until you get up" he said stubbornly from the doorway.

"If I get up will ya wipe that stupid look off ya face?"

Leo smiled slightly, but quickly controlled it, shrugging but never unfolding his arms. "Maybe" he said slyly. "Just get out of bed."

Raph turned and dangled his feet over the side of his hammock, head bowed, and froze there for a moment, listening to the sound of his brother's fading footsteps, the sound of the dojo door, Mikey watching tv.

This too was life- a life he seemed to not belong. Aside from this small haven, this tiny dank room that was barely his own- he had no place besides the surface. He was, so to speak, out of place in his own home. Alone within the crowded room, trapped with no way out.

With a sigh, he stood and pressed his feet to cold concrete, a sensation colder than he could remember. When he stood, he had to brace himself against the wall to steady the spinning room.

"Stupid Leo" he muttered, blinking as the room came back into focus "I'm gunna freakin' collapse 'cause he won't let me sleep a fuckin' second of my life."

But it was a lonely whisper to no one in the empty room, and Raph knew that not all of it was true. It wasn't Leo that kept him awake… it was his own mind, those images, the restlessness that gnawed away at him every second he wasn't on the surface, playing vigilante, saving people from themselves.

When he wandered down to the dojo, feeling stronger on his feet despite his exhaustion, he slid open the door and peered in to see Leo, alone, sitting on the tatami, gazing steadily back at him.

"Raphael, come here. Sit."

Reluctantly, Raph peeled himself from the doorway and sat facing his brother's stone-carved gaze. But beneath the brown marble was still that gnawing look of concern that he just couldn't bare facing straight on. Instead, Raph's eyes swept the empty room, searching for his brothers.

"They're not coming" Leo said stoically, reading his brother's mind. "It's just you and me. We need to talk."

Needing something else to draw his attention away from his brother's stare, Raph tapped his fingers on his knees, studying them as if he'd never seen them before. "Uh… do we really hafta talk" Raph asked hesitantly after a long moment of silence. Slowly, he drew his eyes upward and returned the cold-blooded gaze. "I got nothin' to say."

Leo didn't hesitate. "Something's bothering you, and I can't figure it out. I want to help you, little brother, but you won't let me in."

"Nothin's botherin' me Leo, so butt out" Raph growled, eyes never drawn away out of sheer stubborn determination. It was his silent challenge.

When Leo spoke again, his voice was quieter and his gaze softened just a little. He sighed before he said "Master Splinter had a vision about the path you're traveling, Raph. He says a cloud is hanging over you. Something bad is going to happen if you don't try to change the way you live. That's why he had to ground you. He says it will happen soon if things don't change."

Raph had no response. He just sat, still locked in his stubborn gaze.

Leo reached out, and Raph tried to push backward away from his touch. But before he could, Leo's hand was resting on his knee. His eyes were transparent now, betraying something close to anguish.

"Raph… I don't want to lose you. Not now. You have to change. Stop doing what you're doing before it's too late."

Quickly, Raph scooted away and was on his feet in an instant, letting his brother's touch fall away, his words of worry running down his back, dripping to the floor forgotten.

"I can't change who I am" he murmured lowly, eyes slightly narrowed. Leo just looked up at him, unmoving on the tatami.

"This isn't who you are, Raphael. This is your choice, not a part of you. It's not a limb to be severed, just a different path, a safer path."

"And what the fuck do you want me to do then? Jus' sit around and do nothin' all day? I ain't Mikey, Leo. I won't jus' dick around in La La Land all day long. An' I ain't Don. I can't do nothin' like tha things he does. An' I sure as hell ain't you! I don't know who the fuck you're kidding, thinkin' any of this makes a difference, cause it don't! It don't mean nothin' up there! It don't count worth shit!"

Raph's voice was escalating and soon Leo was on his feet, looking frustrated.

"The world above has nothing to do with us, Raphael! What we do… that is our lives, our choices, and they do matter. If you don't think it matters, you're lying to yourself. You've seen the things we've done, the lives we've saved, the wars we've prevented."

"That's your world, Leo" Raph said darkly "It ain't mine."

"There is only one world, Raphael" Leo said coldly.

"Yeah, there is. It's called reality, and you ain't livin' in it."

Now Leo really looked like he was losing it. His jaw and fists were clenched, eyes narrowed as he spoke. "Why do you have to be so stubborn! Can't you see you're killing yourself! I know the look you carry in your eyes, it's the look of someone being eaten from the inside out."

"You don't know nothin' about me" he seethed, pushing past his brother, letting their shoulders collide as he walked past, making Leo turn on his heel.

"Raphael! Where are you going?"

"Out."

But before Raph could blink, Leo was standing in front of him, blocking his way to the door.

"You're not leaving. Master Splinter's vision… I can't allow you to do this" he trailed, voice becoming barely a whisper. But Raph only stood and stared. "I can't let you make us three."

Raphael only looked forward, pushing past his brother again, edging to the door. But once again, Leo was blocking the way.

"Raph! No! You have to stay! Promise me you'll stay." His eyes were pleading, but Raph was far too stubborn.

"I can't promise you nothin'" he growled, trying to push past again. But this time, Leo wouldn't budge.

"Outta my way, Leo."

Leo shook his head, anguish burning in his eyes. "I… I can't."

Letting a feral growl escape his throat, Raphael shoved his brother hard, making him take a step backward. "I said, outta my way!"

Slowly, as if it pained him, Leo drew his katana and held it between he and his brother, barring the way out the door.

"So this is how it's gunna be" said Raph lowly, glaring heatedly as he withdrew his sai from his belt.

"If you refuse to listen to reason" Leo said coldly, but with a trace of anger "this is how it _has_ to be."

Quickly, Raph was upon him, furiously slashing the air with his sai just inches away from his plastron, but each attack deflected by a single katana.

"You have no right to tell me how to live!" Raph growled angrily, slashing the air again. He wished his brother would realize this and just stand down. He _really_ wished he didn't have to fight.

"If telling you how to live can save your life, then so be it" Leo said coldly as a swing of his katana was blocked by the tines of his brother's sai. "One day, you will go too far, and you'll never come back to us."

In that instant, the brothers paused, weapons locked together, gazes connecting for a fleeting moment. And there, for just a sliver of time, the opaque, unreadable eyes of his brother Raphael cleared to become transparent. Leonardo drew in a breath as his gaze met the deep oceans of pain, the dark rolling tides of anguish, confusion, anger, hate.

"I… I've already gone too far."

Raphael's eyes turned away, unlocking the tangles weapons, gazing at the ground. His sai hung loosely at his sides for an instant as Leonardo took him in, studying his brother for that one rare, fleeting second when his defenses crumbled to the ground.

Leo took a step backward and sheathed his katana, gazing back at his brother with compassion. The look his brother held was the hungry look of the fevered, the defeated, unfocused and yet filled with dark, hollowed self-loathing that flowed like a river beneath that impenetrable exterior.

"Raph… are you ok?"

"Just… just dizzy" he whispered, looking as if a gentle breeze could knock him to his feet.

And just as quickly as it had come, that fleeting moment of weakness left his brother's eyes, marking the return of the opaque, angered glaze that buried it all deep beneath the armor he so carefully built around himself.

Raph snapped quickly into an offensive pose and lunged for his brother again.

"I'm fine!" he roared, slashing savagely at his brother's head. But in almost an instant, Leonardo had snatched both his wrists in either hand. His sai clattered nosily to the ground.

"Raph, tell me. There's something wrong."

"There's nothing wrong!" he screamed "Let me go!"

Raph struggled for a while beneath his brother's grip until he finally decided to let him free.

"There's nothing wrong with me!" he yelled again, as if he had to convince himself as well as his brother.

"Hit me!" Raph demanded, shoving his brother hard against the wall behind him. But Leo did not retaliate. He still appeared lost in thought.

"Hit me!" he roared again, just inches from his brother's face. "God damn it! Hit me!"

And as if he was underwater, Leonardo pulled back and threw his punch, a strike Raphael could have easily averted. But for some reason- whether lack of sleep or otherwise- his reflexes were slow. Instead of ducking, he took the punch full force, crushing hard into his mouth.

When the dizziness returned, Raphael fell to one knee before his brother and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. There, left behind on smooth reptilian skin, a trail of glistening red. He tasted its copper in his mouth and spat, blood smattering the tatami mat at his brother's feet.

Leo was still standing, gazing wide-eyed at his brother, seemingly fascinated with the bright red streak across his hand.

"Raph… I'm sorry. I thought you would…" But words escaped him when he offered his brother a hand, yet he refused. Instead, Raph pushed himself up by his own power, blood still trickling from the corner of his mouth, turned and walked out the dojo door.

"Raph! Wait!"

But Raphael did not turn, he only walked as if deaf to the world, toward the metal door, toward the surface world.

"Raph! Stop!"

Without a backward glance, the heavy door opened, and Raphael disappeared.

Leonardo stood motionless in the center of the Lair as Mike and Don bounded over to the source of the commotion. Mikey was beside him in a flash. Expertly reading the look on his oldest brother's face, his goofy smile quickly turned into a frown.

"Dude, what happened?"

Slowly, as if in shock, Leo shook his head. "I… Raph left. I'm going after him" he said finally after reclaiming control of his own voice. "Don, toss me the keys to the Battle Shell. I think he took the Shell Cycle"

Instantly, Don grabbed the key out of his belt and tossed it to his brother, who caught it without looking. He still had his eyes fixated on the door.

"I'm coming too" Mikey said firmly, already sure his brother had no plan to include him on his mission.

"No, Mikey, you stay here. I have a bad feeling about this."

Running towards the door that had swallowed Raph just moments before, Leo shouted over his shoulder "Donny- tell Master Splinter he's gone. Something bad is going to happen, I can feel it."

And at that moment, all three brothers felt a sharp sinking feeling gnawing at the pit of their stomachs, sending electric charges through their nervous systems, a shock of stark reality.

There was no way this could turn out good.


	5. Chapter 5: Falling Away

Chapter 5: Falling Away

His hands tightened their grip as he sped through the city streets, the light of mid afternoon sun still peaking in the tormented sky, and yet, to the people who passed him by, he was simply a blur, a sound, a roar to high rise balconies, weaving through the tangled webs of traffic, honking cars and taxi cabs, leaving them all behind, as fast as he would dare himself to go.

He knew Leo wasn't far behind, he had fucked up far too much this time to let it go. But it felt like he was caving in, finally imploding to that great release, like he couldn't hold himself together anymore, ripping at the seams. He thirsted for the open road, a deserted stretch of virgin highway, like leaping across dark rooftops. Free.

But he had dared to do the impossible- to break the surface, a stranger to the light of day or hazy sleet-soaked sky, a place where no freedom could ever be found, a barren cage of stained concrete.

He urged the cycle faster onwards, far away from sound and smog, in search of that unbroken highway, abandoned. To escape, to deny he had been so dumb to go against everything he had ever known, everything he had ever been taught about twisted, cruel humanity.

He felt like he could smack his head against the handle bars if he wasn't playing such a dangerous game, a deadly Russian roulette weaving through the traffic in the broad of daylight, the eyes of thousands to be seen. His tires shrieked across slick pavement as he skidded between two taxi cabs and turned the corner on a dime, catching the heated glares of drivers through the windows and his helmet visor, so far away from the comfort of the cloak of night, so far from being safe, everything he'd known.

_Stupid, stupid, stupid! _His mind seemed to scream, his grip getting tighter as he sped like hurricane wind through the concrete jungle, that twisting, fatal maze of cars and seeing eyes, of everything he had been taught to fear.

It was like he had finally snapped, finally lost the remaining shreds of tattered self-control that held himself together.

_Stupid. So goddam stupid!_

The icy bolts of sleet and hail stung his exposed skin, pelted him like shards of glass, ripping through his insides, clawing at his gut the guilt of everything he had done.

Leo had every right to follow him, every right to hunt him down like it was sport, because this was the path he had chosen, and for once in his life, there was no doubt he had chosen wrong.

Breaking free of the chokehold traffic, he gunned the accelerator with lightening sped, feeling his stomach lurch from far behind, the icy wind biting at his skin and paling his torn and broken knuckles, thirsting for blood and oxygen from his starving death-grip. The sound of sleet was almost deafening against his helmet, pelting like one million bullets, ripping him to shreds. He was so damn tired; he wished he could just close his eyes and make it go away.

But still, he urged it faster, farther away from all his mistakes, everything he wished to leave behind, to find that open road and never return, to never remember ever again.

Leaving his life behind in such a blur was like a sweet elixir, a beautiful delusion from siren song and stinging hail, better than the darkest drugs the dealers sold to filthy kids on those blackened midnight streets. To push that accelerator just a little further was like a fever dream, tearing at him just a little harder, like breaking open the scar tissue to let the blood run free, and never looking back.

But the call of the city was engraved into his bones, by now he knew this well, the world he would lay down his life to protect, the world made so foreign stripped from its cloak of darkness, exposed like bleached white bones. In the light, it was hollow. In the light, it was alive with something other than the life he recognized. Gone was the silent pulse and throb of beating hearts, the thrum of pulsing blood and echoes of gunshots. Gone was everything he held close, robbed by the sun until his city vanished before his eyes, flesh torn from bone, bleeding, cold, incomplete.

As it flew by like a hurricane wind, touched so lightly by grey light and day, the icy grip of realization clutched his heart, robbed the breath from his lungs, and made him see the terrible truth. This was the city he vowed to protect. Just another mindless drove of eyeless masses, not some pulsing beast, not some war-torn world. It was a city, cold and heartless like any other, so unlike his world.

This was not his city, not the moon-soaked battlefield he remembered, little children playing in the streets. This was commercialism in action, human, stiff and sterile.

Human. And sterile.

Somehow in the night, New York City was far less human, more reflections of himself in that sickly orange of sky, the cracked ebony of vacant buildings, the crumbling of concrete and roof tar, graffiti-strewn ally ways, filled with gang fights and the scrounging penniless, filthy children and their mother whores. Filled with the people just like him, born of the refuse, the filth, the scum- the smell of sewers forever clinging to his hide until no matter how hard he tried to wash it off, it had become a part of him, seeped into his bloodstream like that midnight throbbing city.

Nothing like it was now, nothing, never. Human. Corporate. Stiff. Sterile. No blood, no pulse. Eyeless, vacant, devoid of that familiar sewer smell, the tainted laughter of children who have seen too much, heard too much, knew the type of gun by its sound ringing through their bedrooms at night, never knowing if their fathers had been the one to pull that trigger, but knowing that someday, they just might follow his lead.

Maybe this was the true reason Splinter had forbade them to emerge into the sun, maybe this was the horror he had vowed to protect his sons against. Maybe the fear of dissection, the ugly, throaty screams, dreams of torturous death and life as a science project were only the lesser evils of the daylight sun. This, this sterility, was the real. This, this cold and hollow wave of lifeless breath, of vacant eyes and unmoving hands, was the only true reason to fear.

At least the city at night had life. At least the ringing guns, the sobbing children, the broken glass of storefront windows was something he could prevent. This, this mindless drove of soulless masses, he was helpless to protect.

He cranked his head around and squinted to the world behind him, of traffic jams and old concrete, farther and farther from the prison he called home. He couldn't see Leo, couldn't hear the diesel drone of the Battle Shell, but he knew it wasn't far behind. Leo was far too tenacious to let a little traffic stop him from teaching a lesson, from rubbing his bad mistakes in his brother's face like salt into a wound. As if he hadn't already known.

But he had to break free, to think things through, because today he had felt something boiling within, something like fear, guilt, rage, something so foreign but gravely familiar when his brother looked into his eyes and asked him what was wrong. And he froze, the feeling of acid clawing at his insides, when Leo asked him, begged him not to go, told his younger brother that he feared for his life.

Looking into those solemn amber eyes, eyes so much like his own but cooler, a bolt of sickness, static electricity, fear rang through his every vein, scuttled down across synapses and neurons like a shock, setting fire to every molecule of his brain when Leo looked so deep, and asked him what was wrong.

And his heart had skipped a beat- painful realization. He had no idea.

He had blamed it on the city, whirring by him now in nothing but a blaze of light and sound, a city he couldn't even recognize in the day, a city he knew so little about save black alley ways and dead beat kids, the winding maze of sewer grates. A city he would so gladly lay his life down for without ever truly knowing why, a city that could care less if he lived or if he died.

It was the city, the city's fault for making him, for stitching him together from the foulest things, spawning him from sewer sludge and rancid runoff water. It was the city's fault for making him hard, showing him things he never wished to see- rapes, children, murders. It was the city who had told him that no one gave a damn about him, that no one cared if he could do a perfect kata or find his center or harvest his chi. For years that was the world to him, for years he lived in lies. But now the city made him bitter, made him something that scared him deep inside, and whispered in his ear what the real world was really about.

No one cared about dissecting him, it wasn't a matter of misunderstanding. They wanted him dead like some revolting insect, and they didn't care which way it happened. Because in the real world, the only world, the world that Leo knew so little, no one gave the time of day for reason, no one gave a shit if they had saved the world a time or two. His family was not a group of scientific wonders, specimens to be observed, they were filth, disgusting and feared. _Freaks_.

_Freaks._

Somewhere between the gap of childhood, warm and innocent amongst the dripping world of sewers, and his teenage years on rooftop perch amongst darkened blood-soaked alley ways, he had lost the reason he was fighting for, lost the person he once was. Somewhere between the world above and the world below, his life had lost all meaning, all definition, stripping him away until all that was left was foul bitterness and rage.

He had learned to blame the city, to define himself by it, to become the city itself. That was who he was: pulsing, throbbing, rage. That was who he'd come to be, so different from his memories, the wide-eyed child he remembered in his dreams, asking him, begging him, why.

What happened?

_What had happened?_

He'd killed someone. He'd finally gone too far. Maybe he was those little children playing in the streets. Maybe he was the kid whose blood smeared onto the concrete, covered in cocaine. Maybe he was that lethal drug dumped into the harbor, poisoning the sea, the entire soulless city, black and dying veins.

_Maybe it was all for nothing. _

He'd been driving for a long time, running from his own shadow, numbing in the cold but burning up inside when he found himself coming close to the docks, that black choppy water licking up on concrete stone, rotten wooden planks, faded boats bobbing in the current, poisoned with the drug of death.

He wanted to pull closer, to study that stain smeared on the wall for a long time, exposed under the sunlight, that imprint of a body in the gathering snow that could very well be his.

Maybe he died that day.

Maybe he was dead.

He slowed the bike down just enough to sweep his gaze along the sickly water, listen to his engine purr, then pick up speed again, leaving it behind.

If he had died, then fuck, he had nothing left to lose.

He gunned the accelerator once again, sweating bullets despite the hard, cold rain until he wished he could claw his helmet off and leave it behind in reckless abandon as he left his life behind as well. His mind was swimming with all these dark images, these terrifying thoughts he had never before dared to think, usually kept so far locked away that they had no chance to rear their ugly heads into the light. But something strange was happening in his mind, and he could feel it more than ever now. That dizziness he had felt back in the dojo was turning his vision in all different odd directions and the heat he had thought only burned within blistered on his skin against the gripping cold.

He gripped onto the handlebars and ignored his right hand's painful protest, but never eased the speed, sweeping through like a winter storm towards the outskirts of town, following the harbor as his guide.

For a moment, the wheel beneath his grip swayed and faltered as the earth began to shift, the slushy sleet turning into sudden blinding snow and hail as the road seemed to slip out from beneath. He had no idea how fast he was going, only that he had lost Leo over an hour ago, and there was something seriously wrong with his brain. It just didn't seem to want to function, to allow his eyes to see clearly and his skin to stop its burning, to steady his hands or the earth beneath him.

It was like a brick lay heavy on his chest, forbidding his breath to reach his lungs when the tires of the shell cycle slipped, careening like a dream as the world turned upside down and lingered in midair for only a moment until that bone-jarring slam back to down to reality, his head kicking back as it hit.

The bike was skidding along the pavement, metal screeching against the stone, and he was following close behind, everything spinning out of orbit as his shell scraped across the ground and made the same sickening, hollow screech.

Before he knew it, they were both over the embankment on the lesser-traveled road, running down the muddy steep toward the harbor bank. He watched in horror as his bike careened into the blackened depths and icy water as if the pain he felt was not his own, until the glass of his visor cracked like spider's webs and blinded him to the falling grey snow.

* * *

"Don?"

Leo's voice had an edge to it, a subtle snap that said he just knew something had to be wrong.

Don's voice was apprehensive when he answered, motioning for Mike as he spoke.

"Leo? What's wrong?"

"I lost him."

Mikey was bounding over from his nest on one side of the couch, letting his bag of chips fall abandoned on the floor, crumbs pouring onto the dingy worn carpet. He opted to vault over the side of the sofa when he saw his brother's fear-filled eyes. Don switched the shell cell to speaker phone.

"What do you mean you lost him?" Don gasped, eyes flickering over to Mike, whose jaw had suddenly dropped.

"I'm stuck in traffic and Raph just weaved straight through like a madman. I know you have a tracking system on the Shell Cycle. You have to tell me where he is."

"Um…" Don hesitated, battling between a promise he had made to Raph, and the hint of fear ripping into Leo's voice that sent bolts of static down his spine. When Don had built the Shell Cycle, he had installed a tracking system, knowing that Raph would get into his fair share of trouble with his new-found freedom. But one day while Raph was out, he had watched the little green blip on his computer monitor stay motionless for over two hours. Fearing the worst, he had gathered up Leo and Mike to come to the rescue, only to find Raph alone and brooding upon a rooftop.

Raph had been so angry when they found him, and the glaze in his eyes said that he had been a little drunk. Leo hadn't noticed, thankfully, but at that fleeting moment, Don could finally understand.

He had his laboratory, his projects. Mike had his comics and tv. Leo had training, meditation. Raph had his city.

So he had vowed that night, unbeknownst to his troubled brother that he would deactivate the tracking device, to trust him just a little, because that was the one part of his brother he could vaguely understand- the need to be alone.

But eventually the pregnant pause so filled with stabbing fear won him over in the end. Making his way with hurried steps, Mikey following closely behind, he burst into his lab and sat on his swivel chair before his old computer. He placed his shell cell on the metal desk and began to bring up the correct security program holding access to all of the tracking information while trying to pretend Mikey wasn't hovering over his shoulder.

"Just give me a second. I have the tracking device off line for… some maintenance" he lied, hoping Leo wouldn't have caught on to his hesitation. He had never been any good at lying, especially to Leo, but he knew his oldest brother would have gravely disapproved. He had to lie, he had no choice.

"So what is all this about, anyway?" Mikey said from somewhere close behind, trying to sound as nonchalant as possible despite his pounding heart. Raph had disappeared before, and it never made him scared like this, never made Leo's voice sound the way it did right now.

"I… I don't know, Mikey" he said quietly, voice somewhat strained. "It's hard to explain. I just think there's something really wrong, but I can't put my finger on it. I have to find him before he kills himself out here. The way he was driving… he could get really hurt when the roads are this bad."

Mikey's lips were curled into a frown when even he couldn't find the words to say. He had nothing left to say, nothing left to ask, because he knew everything that Leo feared, he feared it too.

Raph was reaching his breaking point, and this was the closest he had ever gone to falling off the edge.

"He's near the harbor, ten minutes south of the docks." Don said finally, voice devoid of all emotion, distancing himself behind comfort of the cold barricade of fact.

When something was really bothering him, that's what Don did- deny. Fact was something he could cling on to, something tangible and real. This… this was just air and feeling and emotion… air that was too hard and thick for him to breathe.

He refused to mention that the tracker had told him Raph's bike was actually _in _the harbor. That had to be a glitch.

_Yeah, a glitch. I'll have to look into it when Raph gets back. It's been offline too long. That's all._

Mikey's frown only deepened when he heard Don's stone-edged voice, the way he stared into space with lips drawn into a hard, tight line, as if he wasn't telling Leo the complete truth.

"He's going to be ok, right Leo?"

A pause.

"I don't know, Mikey" Leo said with a sigh, turning the Battle Shell towards Dewey Avenue, southbound for the docks. "I'll call you guys as soon as I find him."

"We'll be here" Mike said, making a failed attempt to lighten the mood. Don turned and stared at him, expressionless as Leo's line went dead.

"He'll be ok" Mike said again with a shrug and a weak little smile. "It's Raph, remember? He does this kind of stuff in his sleep."

"Yeah. You're right" Don breathed, leaning his elbows on the metal desk and rubbing his temples like his head was about to burst. Quickly, he caught himself doing it and pulled his hands away, turning in his chair back towards Mikey.

"You're right" he said again, returning his younger brother's desperate smile. "They'll be back before you know it."

* * *

He'd been driving for what seemed like hours, knowing that Don and Mikey were probably having a cow right about now waiting for his call. He had almost picked up his shell cell three times to ask Don if this was the right place, if Raph hadn't moved since the last time they spoke. But something deep within his gut was telling him this was right, that Raph had to be nearby.

He tried to ignore the stabbing pangs of fear that ripped through him every time he let his mind wander, every time he reached the end of the harbor and doubled back again, eyes scanning the roadsides and abandoned factory buildings, ancient fisheries and processing plants, rows of decrepit boats and fishing nets. But each time he scanned the muddy banks, let his eyes wander to the blackened water, he snapped them quickly back. There was no way. He wouldn't let himself believe it. He had to be okay. He had to.

Both hands gripped tightly on the steering wheel, he squinted through the veil of sleet and rain that had become somewhat of a slushy, miserable blizzard, thanking god Donny had thought of upgrading the massive truck to all wheel drive a while back. It had seemed a little excessive then, but turned out life-saving in the end.

_No, not life-saving. Today there was no life to save. There couldn't be._

Raph could take care of himself. As much as he'd like to deny it, his hothead brother did have at least a shred of self-control left in him, and he could be responsible if he needed to be. Unfortunately enough, Raph only exercised it while trying to save the lives of others, while trying desperately to watch his brother's backs, while defending those weaker than himself.

But he had come to believe himself invincible, giving way to reckless abandon whenever there was no one left to spare, as if his life had far less value unless it was sacrificed for the lives of others. Leo couldn't remember how Raph had come to think so low of himself, to willingly sacrifice his life for a complete stranger without hesitation.

On paper, it sounded like an admirable quality. But in truth, it was downright exasperating to watch as his brother taunted the hand of death.

In the recent years, he had kept Donny constantly busy scrounging for medical supplies, running out of fishing line for stitches, clean needles, gauze, antiseptic. He had unknowingly kept April just as busy obtaining what he couldn't find on his own, and even busier coming home every night (or morning in most recent times) bleeding in one way or another.

He couldn't fathom why anyone would want to live that way, couldn't believe that was the path his brother has chosen. But when Master Splinter had warned him just two nights ago, his eyes filled with grave concern, it had become all too real. When he had confronted Raph the second time, just hours ago that seemed like eons passed, the reality of it was set in stone through the clearing of his brother's opaque eyes, that terrifying glimpse into the raging storm that gripped him now, that black and choppy sea.

He had to do something, he had to make it right, but he had no idea how.

And now he couldn't find him, hoping for the best, but in the starkest thoughts of reality, preparing for the worst. And the worst was what struck him now when he passed the same patch of street for seemingly the thousandth time, and saw the haunting skid marks snaking through a muddy embankment, being slowly covered by the grey collecting sleet.

Quickly he turned the massive vehicle to the other side of the road, pulling into an empty fishery parking lot, cracked pavement and unplowed, and killing the engine. With hawk-like eyes he surveyed the area before daring to emerge into the graying light.

The sun was getting low, though it was hard to tell behind the gloom of clouds. It must have been late afternoon by now, and the early dark of winter was quickly taking hold, submersing the city in a stale, half-twilight grey, grey like the blackened, polluted sleet that gathered around his ankles when he slid apprehensively out of the Battle Shell door, eyes darting all around like a nervous animal of prey, finding no one.

That was one advantage of foul weather, the people stayed inside.

Carefully picking his way over the embankment's edge, nearly losing his footing in the black, icy mud, he sucked in a breath when he peered down to the water's edge.

"Oh god" he breathed, sprinting closer to the heap he knew all too well. "Raph…"


	6. Chapter 6: Echoes of Reality

_A/N: Hi everyone! Back again to save you from my terrible cliffhanger to leave you once again…with another cliffhanger! So beware!! Muahaahahahaha. If you've been paying any attention at all to this little fic, you've probably already figured out I'm pure evil, but anyways… a short little note from me…_

_I've decided that this fic will start blending themes from the 2003 series with that of the new movie, which I've found I like writing about a lot after experimenting via my oneshot **I Am**. If you like this fic, I suggest you check it out! But yeah. If anyone feels confused by this, feel free to say something._ _This probably won't start until later chapters, so just a forewarning._

_Well, I think that's enough self advertisement and rambling from me… now on with the show!_

* * *

Chapter 6: Echoes of Reality

"Raph?... Raph!"

By the time Leo had managed to slide down the muddy embankment, he was immediately by his brother's side, shaking him gently at first, then with more determination.

There was no way he could lose his brother now. Not this way, _not ever._

In the early years of newfound freedom, the first experiences of the dangers of the unforgiving surface world, Leonardo had silently accepted that they would lose Raphael young. To imagine him as anything over twenty felt strangely out of place. To imagine him as thirty was close to impossible. So somehow, he had learned to accept that the cruelty of the human world would come to claim him in early, robbing away his fiery young soul, once so in love with its darkness, its every twist and flaw like it was a part of himself. Two years ago he had decided that this cloudiness in his imagination was simply a forewarning, a brewing storm, a premonition of the things yet to come. And yet he refused to ever see it, to deny himself a glimpse into his troubled brother's demise.

But it wasn't supposed to happen like this. Raph was supposed to die some valiant way, something far too loud and dramatic for Leonardo's own taste, with that crooked sideways smile smeared across his lips as he took a bullet for his brother, or was felled by the cruel edge of a Foot ninja's blade. Or maybe he was supposed to die alone, playing vigilante, a rapist or a murderer at the dagger's point of his sai, bleeding from some mortal wound as he took one last monster off those polluted streets and bled out onto the pavement, returning to the city lights and cracking storefront buildings what was rightfully theirs. His blood, his breath, his flesh, it all belonged to them.

Maybe he would be the last of his kind, that murderer or that rapist, because Raphael had exterminated them all, because he was meant to go on from here, that the city wouldn't come to claim him just yet, that it's cracked pavement walls could stave away the hunger for just a little more time.

There just no way that this could be the end of him, lying face down in the graying snow by the poisoned water's edge. No, this was not his day to die without a shred of dignity or of grace, without that fierce sideways smile, his sai held in his hands.

When Leo saw that unmoving figure sprawled out in the snow, a part of him said to turn away, that his eyes could be mistaken, that this could not be Raph. It told him then to stop, to just freeze and walk away, abandoning this stark prediction of the future because his brother wasn't really there. Maybe he hadn't found him yet, maybe Raph had finally found that virgin highway of his dreams and never looked back.

After shaking his brother like a desperate plea, his heart sinking to the ground as he received no response, Leo sat there in the snow, ignoring its numbing, biting cold, and turned his brother over, cradling him in his arms. Wrenching off his cracked red helmet, and gazing upon his hardened features, that blood red bandana that fit him so well, the marks and faded scars of a battle-torn life he hardly recognized without those passionate, fiery eyes burning from behind them.

"Raph…" he said again, feeling for a pulse, brushing his hand over that solemn sleeping face, the cool dampness of his skin.

But in that instant, a heavy hand brushed his arm away and his heart skipped a beat as he met those blazing eyes once again. A life, his brother's life flashing before him in that moment of amber fire, so angry and so hungry to join the fight once more. To see even anger was a blessing, because that unquenchable rage meant one more day, one more chance to side step the hands of death, one more chance to dodge the inevitable.

"Jeez, Leo. I'm okay… get offa' me" his brother growled lowly, uneasily pushing himself off Leo's lap and back into the snow, wincing as he managed to do so. He hated seeing that look behind his brother's eyes casting dismally upon him, a look he was getting far too used to seeing… grating fear, disappointment, concern, _pity._

He didn't want anyone's damn pity, especially not Leo's.

"Don't move" his brother said sternly as the initial wave of relief finished sweeping over him, taking that pounding weight from off his chest and letting him breathe a little easier "you're leg looks pretty bad."

And that was the truth. Once he was sure his brother wasn't gone, he had a chance to let his eyes wander down to Raph's swollen and oddly jointed shin, wincing to himself as he eyed the ugly purple bruise, the telltale signs of broken bone.

Raph had his eyes closed and his teeth grit, hands clenched into fists pressing into the slick muddy ground as he tried to lift himself up again, but collapsed into the snow.

"Stop moving!" Leo chided, pressing his hand down onto his brother's plastron, pinning him back to the ground. But quickly, he pulled his hand away when Raphael burst into a fit of coughs, earning him another concerned stare.

"I said get offa me, Leo!" he roared once he gained back his composure, glaring daggers into his brother's sickening parental look "and stop lookin' at me like that, you asshole."

Leo's eyes widened in surprise, blinking a few times as he rocked back onto his heels, knees pressing into the snow. "Like what?"

"Like you think you're better than me 'r somethin'" he growled. "Like you got this huge stick up your ass an' can't pull it out."

Leo's eyes narrowed but he stayed stock still. His brother's comment was enough to make him cringe inwardly, though he would refuse to let himself show it. It was an old argument, the source of many countless hours of bickering, of bitter rivalry, of heated disagreement, and sometimes injury. Leonardo's constant pursuit of perfection, constant trial by fire beneath his own eyes, his leap into martyrdom. It was easily mistaken for haughty self-opinions. Little did Raph know about the scars, the flaws, the darkness so akin to his beloved twisted city that dwelled beneath his brother's perfect gleaming exterior. How little did he know how similar they truly were.

"Raph, look at yourself!" he huffed, feeling that familiar clawing frustration slowly creeping beneath his skin. "You take off on that motorcycle in the middle of a storm and do this…"

But he had to stop himself as his eyes glanced across the graying sky, that choppy black and poisoned water, the bruises on his brother's leg. With a sharp intake of breath he refused to let himself indulge in a lecture. That could wait for another day, when Raph's leg wasn't bent at an obscenely unnatural angle, when his brother hadn't, just moments before, been so close to the unshakeable grip of death. Instead he bit his tongue and shook his head, more mad at himself than anything, swallowing it down like hemlock in his throat.

"I'm sorry, Raph" he sighed as his brother tried to sit back up again, wincing, but trying his best to hide it with a steely mask of anger. "I… I didn't mean… I thought you were… _dead_" he said finally, the vile words feeling sharp and tainted on his tongue.

Real… it had been far too real.

"Great, Leo" Raphael growled with that ever-present bite of sarcasm, managing to prop himself up onto his elbows, shivering slightly from the cold. "I'm sittin' here with my leg broke in nine places an' all you can do is make it sound like _you're _the one with problem."

Leo shook his head fiercely, ready to retaliate, but stopped himself again. Sucking in a breath to quell the raging fire Raph had sparked within him once again. He let his shoulders fall. "Do we have to do this now? I should probably call Don and Mikey and tell them to get over here. I don't think I can get you back to the truck myself."

"I can walk" he grunted stubbornly, trying to push himself up to a full sitting position, and finally managing to do so. His head was still swimming and he had no idea why. Blinking a few times, he tried to steady the ground beneath him. "And _I _don't need to do this now. _You _do."

Leo shot a look at him, first of displeasure for sitting up so suddenly, obviously a difficult task to master for some unknown reason, something betrayed by the lack of focus in his eyes, but slowly melted into venomous disdain.

"Please" he seethed scornfully through his teeth, trying to forbid the anger from welling up again, clawing at his throat, betrayed by the cutting edge of his voice "do tell."

If looks could kill, Leo knew he would have been dead ten times over. Raph didn't look like he was up to answering, but let his words hang stagnant in the air, just to torture him. That look had said it all, though, a message no words needed to explain, and Leo knew this argument well. He internalized everything, made the errors of others his personal failure, became a martyr for the sake of his own tortured mind. This was partly the reason he had gone to train under the Ancient One. This was the reason Master Splinter had sent him away. But he had learned his lessons, tried the best he could to change, but found that some old habits die hard. He wasn't the same person he had been before he'd left, after they had confronted the Shredder that one last time, after his greatest failure, but still, he was flawed. The scar on his shell would ever prove to be his stark reminder.

It had been months since his return, since their new lives had begun, since Raph had taken his downward spiral, dragging Leo down by his side like leaden weights under water. Why he had let his brother weigh him like a burden with every mark and scar he ever took in the shadows beneath the city lights, he could never know. Maybe he was a martyr, maybe he was unhealthy, maybe he should just walk away and let his brothers make their own mistakes, not allow himself to suffer by them, to stop himself from trying to protect them from their bad choices, only for the consequences to fall back on _his _shoulders, to become _his _to bear.

It wasn't fair, it wasn't right to try to save them, to try to make it in his mind somehow his own fault, but he couldn't stop it now. His whole life was based on avoiding failure, perusing perfection, and mistakes stood out like black ugly scars burned into the white matter of his brain.

Raphael watched his brother's suddenly opaque eyes, that far off expression that told him he had hit a sensitive nerve. He grinned inwardly at the silent torture he could spark inside his oldest brother, because all it took was one tiny, well placed spark into tinder while Leo fanned the flames.

The pause had been suffocating, letting the pain in his leg edge its way back into his mind with his ebbing anger, the loss of quick adrenaline. Shit it hurt, hurt like shell, but Raph wouldn't be bothered by such trivial things, not when he was winning an argument. So he bit his tongue and let his nails bite into the flesh of his palms to distract him from the furious ache, deciding he had finally had enough.

"Look me in tha eyes and tell me you're not thinkin' this _your _fault."

Leo's eyes snapped back into reality and turned to look into his brother's once again. Seeing the pain there, the square set of his jaw from clenched teeth, the viscous fists he was making against it, pressing into the thick mud ground. When he saw the pain, pain his brother suffered through so willingly in silence, bit back just to strike a nerve, he decided to let it go. Raphael knew the answer, maybe all too well, because both would readily suffer in silence yet ever say a word, never betray a weakness for the benefit of others, the destruction of themselves. It was moments like these that Leo saw a reflection of himself behind his brother's eyes and felt nothing but black, festering shame at himself for putting it there. So he let the statement hang in the air and traded his far away look for concern.

Without another word, he blinked quickly and reached for his belt, remembering his promise to Don and Mike what seemed like hours ago. Fingering the little Shell Cell, he flipped it open and dialed the number. Don picked it up before it could even finish its first ring.

"Is everything ok?" came Don's exasperated voice. He could already hear Mikey asking a million incoherent questions in the background.

"I found him."

"Oh, thank god" Don breathed with a heavy sigh of belief as Mikey squealed with joy from behind. "Is he ok?"

Leo hesitated. "He's… he fell off the Shell Cycle and I think his leg might be broken."

"Oh great" Don said bitterly, obviously feeling overtaxed after the last two months of stitching Humpty-Dumpty back together again. "That'll keep him in the Lair for a while at least" he breathed, regretting the cutting edge his voice had taken, finding it hard to sound more like himself. "Any other injuries?"

"Nothing serious" Leo said, surveying his scowling brother "he's having a hard time sitting up, though."

"Ain't not" Raph growled sharply, even as he felt the world spin around him. Leo snapped his eyes fiercely back to his brother's glazed expression, but said nothing.

"Could be a head injury, but then again… he hasn't been himself lately…"

"What are you thinking, Don?"

Don paused, but decided it could wait for later. "I'll have to take a look at him before I can jump to any conclusions. Can you get him back ok?"

"Yeah, I don't think it'll help if you guys came. He's playing stubborn again."

"Oh. Okay, I'll be waiting, then."

When the line went dead, Leo snapped the phone shut and tucked it back into his belt, sitting there solemnly and silent, watching Raphael struggle to compose himself.

"Can you walk?"

Raph's eyes looked glazed and he had an expression on his face that was hard for him to read. But something was telling him his brother was in no shape to walk.

"My leg's broke, dumbass. Course I can't walk."

Rolling his eyes, Leo stood up and offered him a hand. "I'm not asking you to walk all the way over there on your own."

But Raph didn't move. His head was still swimming and all he really wanted to do was sleep, or puke his brains out. That was a new development, but he wouldn't let himself dwell on it.

"Just… gimme a minute" he grunted, watching the world spin around him and shivering against the cold. He'd been sitting in that sloppy snow for so long, he could barely feel his legs anymore, which wasn't entirely a bad thing. What frustrated him to no end was how the icy chill felt like it was crawling under his skin, creeping through his bloodstream. But without any power to stop it, he didn't let himself dwell on that either.

"Come on, Raph. It's still too light out here. We could get spotted" Leonardo said nervously as his eyes darted around the vacant snow covered harborside. He wasn't sure if he was just being paranoid, or if it was just the way his brother looked right now-so blank and weak and fragile- that made his skin crawl so eerily. It was _that feeling _the feeling he had become so acquainted with in recent years, the feeling he was being watched.

Raph's voice was stubborn, but had lost its edge when he spoke again, though it never seemed capable of being devoid of sarcasm. "I said just gimme a minute, Fearless. An' stop being so fucking paranoid."

He wished he could tell Leo to just fuck off. He wished he could get up out of that biting, dirty snow, hold on to whatever sad little shred of dignity he had left, and ride his bike back home in the freedom of the twilight air. That is, if he ever decided he wanted to go home again. But his bike was lying on the bottom of the harbor now, lost to the black and murky depths among the twisted, rotting refuse and the decomposing corpses of the mob's murder victims. And even if he had his bike, he just couldn't seem to command his legs to stand. Every time he tried, the world would spin around him again, robbing him of all his strength, steeling away his breath.

Out of sheer stubborn determination, he refused Leo's hand and heaved himself up into a kneeling position, already out of breath from the effort, making Leo give him that sickening look again, that look that just made Raph want to punch him in the face. But he didn't have the strength or breath to protest now, when that gaze was turned in his direction, and Leo held fast onto his shoulders and heaved him to his feet.

Raph clutched his head and fought off a sudden wave of nausea when the world finally righted itself again, almost making him forget to favor his leg.

"You sure you didn't his your head?" Leo asked, clutching tightly to his brother's shoulder as they walked, trying to hide the effort it took to practically carry him up the muddy hill.

"'M sure" he grunted hazily, leaning on his brother heavily, resting his head on his strong shoulder when it proved too much to hold. His breath was hot on Leo's neck, and he definitely didn't like the sound of his brother's voice. It was far too weak and distant.

"I think you have a concussion, Raph."

But Raphael felt like he was slipping from reality suddenly. At the moment, hobbling awkwardly up the steep embankment, all he could think about was his bike at the bottom of the harbor.

"Don's gunna kill me when he hears 'bout the bike" he groaned, as if the thought of his bike slowly sinking to the mucky bottom pained him more than his hideously swollen leg.

"No" Leonardo panted as his brother faltered slightly, almost sending them both reeling backward into the mud. By now he was practically carrying Raph up the steep and treacherous slope to the old abandoned parking lot. But he had to get out of there. There was something so terrifyingly electric in the air, and it didn't settle well with him at all when his brother was this far gone, be it head injury or not. "Don's gunna kill you if you force him to build you a new one. I know you're perfectly capable of building one yourself."

But Raph's eyes were closed while he waited for a response, giving him none. He had his head buried at the crook of his neck, leaning so heavily Leo thought they both might soon barrel backwards down the hill, back into the sickly black waters of the harbor.

With one final heave, gritting his teeth all the way, Leo lugged his brother back onto the cracked and worn down pavement by the old fishery. The Battle Shell sat mere feet away to meet them, like the checkered flag at the finish line.

"I fucking love that bike" he murmured into the crook of Leo's neck. But his brother didn't respond, only pressed onward with growing determination, convinced that something was lurking in the shadows, something he was missing, something he couldn't see. The Battle Shell stood for safety. It stood for home. So close it sat before him on that old, cracked road, and yet so far away.

And then his heart sunk to the floor, suddenly, as if he'd just been struck dead, like the final paling shock after the death blow, before his enemy crumpled to the ground.

Movement on the rooftop just above, the crumbling bricks of the old moldy factory, tattered and haunted with age.

For once, he wanted to feel as brave as he sounded in the heat of battle, so cool and collected, quick-thinking and calculating. But in truth, he was twisted into one thousand knots inside. His throat was tight when he spoke, but the practiced calm veneer hid it well.

"Stay here, Raph" he said gently, quietly, as he placed his brother back down onto the ground, leaving him sitting propped up against the Battle Shell. As he drew away, hands ready to flick to the hilts of his katana, his eyes suddenly seemed to flicker back to life again, clearing for one fleeting moment.

"What's going on, Leo?" he asked gravely, already knowing the answer, but wishing well he didn't. His eyes darted quickly to the old crumbled rooftop that had snatched away his brother's attention and placed his palms firmly on the ground.

Leo put a hand out to stop him when he saw his brother's struggle to right himself again. The look of fear in his oldest brother's eyes was enough for Raph to stop, but finger his sai nervously, whether he could fight or not.

But wasn't this his vow? Wasn't this the path his life would follow? For a long time, an eon that seemed to have dawned the day he was born, Raphael always knew he'd go down fighting in the end, fighting until there was no more fight left in him, no more breath to breathe, no more strength left in his limbs to throw another strike, no more blood left to bleed from his weeping arteries. He felt like he had come pretty close to that tonight, but fingered his weapons anyway. Even if he couldn't stand, even if the world seemed bent on moving in all directions, and the throbbing pain shooting up his leg was maddening, all of that wouldn't stop him from taking down as many black masked assholes with him as he could before they finally finished him off.

"Foot" he seethed, narrowing his eyes, baring his teeth. Even in so much pain, far too weak to pull himself to his own feet, Raph could still look so formidable. "I hate the Foot."

Wordlessly, Leonardo nodded and slowly drew his swords, bringing the sound of smooth, gleaming steel into the crisp and sodden air, still shining bright silver in the failing grey light.

And before he could blink, before his heart could beat once more, they were upon him, leaping from the rooftop like wraiths born from the shadows, landing soundlessly on the roof of the armored car with the padding of silent feet, gleaming weapons brandished, hungry for his blood.

Without hesitation, the first two ninja struck in unison, as the third made his way for Raph, clutching a small glittering butterfly knife in his treacherous black gloved hand.

So inhuman were the Foot Ninja, blackened and eyeless beneath their dull uniforms, the seal of the Shredder stamped across their chests. In the turtles' minds, they had become nothing but meaningless drones, weapons controlled by the hands of the Shredder himself, hinting only on their humanity when cut enough to bleed.

Even though he was gone, it was hard to tear his image away from those black eyeless faces, hard to think that anyone but purest evil made incarnate could ever control. Even from his ice prison, thousands of light years away, his mark still haunted, burned bright through the graying light, struck fear in the hearts of all who opposed him.

With a sudden burst of adrenaline, Leonardo clashed swords with the two ninja in one swift movement, the sharp metallic sound ringing through the quiet sky. From the corner of his eye he could see Raphael on his feet again, one hand pressed up against the cool metal of the Battle Shell, the other clutching a single bloodied sai as the ninja before him crumpled to the ground.

He was panting heavily, his chest rising and falling with every stabbing gulp of winter air as two more Foot leapt down before him from the rooftop above.

"You guys breed like fucking Rabbits" he growled as the two attacked at once, knowing that Leo was probably having a conniption over the dishonor of the situation. Two against one, striking an injured opponent. It wasn't fair, sure, and it was dishonorable, he'd give Leo that much. But life never went according to honor, never obeyed the rules just because you believed in them. For Raph, honor, what was fair, that was just all air to him. This- injustice, cruelty, death- this was life in its purest form. Harsh, uncaring, and vicious.

Leonardo was striking down ninjas by the handful now with long, sweeping swings of his twin katana, at first rendering most unconscious at his feet, but as the battle thickened and the numbers grew, those flashing blades became more lethal, cutting flesh, striking arteries like oil wells, pooling blood and hunks of flesh flowing in a thick and icy river across the blackened pavement, trickling into the cracks, feeding the hungry earth below.

They were trying to get to Raph, trying viciously to filter through his defenses, past those deadly blades, to crush him by sheer numbers and make him falter long enough to let one through. But every ninja that leapt from the rooftop, every soft and graceful footstep that dared to touch the ground below, was met by those lethal swords, becoming ever more quick and deadly as the numbers grew.

Leo let out a sigh of relief when he saw Raph still on his feet, though his sai was locked together with the two ninja's tanto held high above his head. His teeth were bared like something feral as he held the blades away, muscles bulging, forbidding them from tearing at his flesh.

Seeing no other opening for a strike to break the crushing force of the twin gleaming tanto, Raphael leapt quickly into a split kick, sending the two ninjas flying, and a mind numbing current of pain bursting from his injured leg. His vision blurred and darkened quickly as a monstrous howl escaped his throat, dropping to his knees.

It only took one moment for Leo to stop, to catch that feral, painful roar and let his eyes snap towards his brother, and it was all over. The hoard of countless black clothed ninjas moved like hurricane wind from all around, leaving Leonardo with both katana knocked from his hand and Raphael kneeling on the ground, head bowed and coughing uncontrollably, a blood thirsty tanto knife pressing to his throat.

And in that moment, as the sound of his katana clattered hollowly to the ground, the echoing sound of defeat, nothing but breath, adrenaline, fear occupied the world. No other sound rang through the still and dreary day but those clattering katana, Raphael's ragged coughs, the pounding of his heart.

That is, until she spoke.

"We meet again, Leonardo."

The sound of her voice crawled up his spine, icy, cold, and shrewd, mingling with the sound of breath. His eyes narrowed as he gazed upon her shadow on the crumbling rooftop ledge, dark and ominous against the fading torment of sky.

And his heart thrummed ever louder with each pulse of silence, the sound of the howling wind pounding through the air.

The Shredder may have been gone, but never, _never _could his family ever escape his venomous reach, from his eyeless weapons, from the one person Leonardo hated more, the only person he despised deeper that the monster that had nearly killed his family, the creature that nearly caused him his greatest failure and torn his world apart.

Karai.


	7. Chapter 7: Silence

Chapter 7: Silence

Leonardo cringed at the sound of her voice, her slant figure standing upon that rooftop, the dark uniform of the Foot. Her green eyes could still burn holes into him, glaring down upon him from above, the sharpest weapon in existence.

His hands felt gravely empty without the hilt of his katana, the worn wood and metal that could give him any sort of comfort beneath her stabbing gaze. In the silence that surrounded them, enveloping even the bleeding foot ninja that had been maimed and injured at his feet, some still, unbreathing. Even Raphael had stopped his wheezy coughing, now breathing heavily upon his knees, his eyes closed tightly against the cool blade of the tanto pressed against his throat.

"What do you want, Karai" Leonardo seethed gravely up to that sky-torn rooftop, the icy sleet soaked ledge where she now stood, eyes bright and hate-filled, her red band tied around her forehead tangled in the wind.

For a moment, she let the silence linger heavy as the fallen snow, as if the heir to her father's awesome power could control even sound itself. But she wasn't the Shredder, she wasn't the black and white, the evil of unspoken truths, something so unquestionable and inobtainably wicked only nightmares and hellfire could brag of birthing better.

No, Karai was wicked, though she was indeed inherently human. So unlike her father's cold calculation, the black stone look of robotic eyes, she had not the steel walls of the enigma. So unlike her father, Leonardo could see into her inner workings behind those cold burning human eyes, the silent relish of the position he was in, the sick and twisted fire that burned there as she gazed back just as deeply, a slight smile clawing at the corners of her lips. She was enjoying this.

Once, he had thought her to have honor, to follow the code of Bushido, even if she was a product of her own misguided upbringing. In those days, he had thought to understand her, he had seen some likeness behind that green intensity of eyes, between the sound of his glinting twin katana clashing against her single tanto.

But how wrong he had been, those early days of wide eyed freedom and exploration, the first bitter taste of the surface world, the very first days before his life, and the life of his brother, had began its slow downward spiral into the belly of hell. He had been young all those years ago. He had been innocent, green, so easily misled, betrayed.

At one time, she had told him her vendetta on his family was lifted, exchanged one life for another, and he had blindly believed her. But here she was instead, the very picture of grotesque irony, standing glaring black upon that stark rooftop ledge, the sword of her henchman pressed against his weakened brother's throat.

"You are in no position to speak to me in such a manner, Leonardo, when your brother could so easily be felled by my ninja's hand."

He could feel that welling sensation of anger inside of him now, raging unchecked, coursing through his bloodstream.

"He's injured, Karai" he snapped. "This is low, even for you."

"That matters not to me" she said without a trace of emotion or of rage, sounding more like the cool voice of her father's than any tone capable of escaping human lips. "After what you have done to my father, Bushido dictates I have every right to avenge him. I have every right kill the both of you as you stand here before me."

Leonardo's empty hands were now shaking with rage, clenched into tight fists at his sides, wishing he could escape the hoard of ninja that surrounded him now and slice straight through her with his katana. When he spoke, his voice was stained with venomous fury.

"You know nothing of true Bushido, only the twisted beliefs your father has poisoned you with" he seethed, suddenly imaging those cold, stabbing eyes glazed and vacant beneath the gripping cloak of death, those perfect, vicious lips trickling thinly crimson blood. "If you have any honor left behind your father's seal, you'll let my brother go and face me the right way!" he roared, barreling through the wall of black cloaked ninja gathered all around him, stepping toward the crumbling fishery building, only to find himself surrounded once again.

"You _dare _to question my honor, child, when you yourself know so little of the world that surrounds you. You have tampered with affairs that you cannot understand, turtle, and now you must pay the consequences for your foolish mistakes. I will restore honor to my father's name, whether you choose to stop me or not" she said coldly, hesitating slightly, as if struggling to swallow back something bitter.

"If you have any honor left inside of you, Leonardo, you and your brother will simply let my ninja slay you while you still have the dignity to spare."

Like a flash of fury and light, Leo made his reply. Bursting free of the sea ninja once again, ducking into a roll to retrieve his abandoned swords from the ice covered pavement, he held both blades menacingly to the eyeless hoard, the darkening twilight sky, Karai unmoving on the rooftop. Baring his teeth and growling ferally in his maddening rage, the ninja stepped backward, stunned and reeking of fear, never daring to come too far.

"I will never surrender my family for the sake of your twisted honor" he hissed, never peeling away his venomous eyes from her stone carved glare, unchanging even in the face of such vicious anger.

With a flick of her hand, she motioned to the ninja with the tanto pressed against his brother's throat. Before Leonardo could make a move, the ninja nodded and pressed the blade into Raphael's flesh, biting only slightly, drawing a thin line of crimson blood that wept from the narrow wound with one single tear.

And Raph only closed his eyes tighter, baring his teeth just as his brother had, knowing the anger storming inside them both like his own life's blood, gently trickling down the side of his neck in a thin scarlet trail, pooling warm and sickly at the edge of his plastron.

But never did he cringe, never did he indulge Karai with a cry of pain as the blade sliced its stinging cut into his flesh. Never, ever, would he give her that sense of satisfaction. Instead, the rage was getting harder to bear, welling up inside him like a bursting volcano about to erupt. He had held his tongue long enough, played the damsel in distress, the now bleeding bargaining chip far longer than he could ever stand to be at the business end of a Foot ninja's tanto.

The blood now flowing crimson red as his brother's bandana, that sickly little trail on the ninja's cutting blade caught the corner of Leo's eyes, every memory of that promise, that dark night when he looked into her eyes and vowed to never hunt his family again, put them under her protection, a promise shattered like a plate of glass, cracked, glittering and irreparable. It had been done, that striking blow that sentenced them all to death. The Shredder was dead, but the danger was far from over.

"There was a day when I trusted you, Karai, a day when you vowed to me my family's protection. What has happened to that promise, I will never understand. My family was acting out of honor when we last faced your father, to protect the lives of millions of innocent people."

Karai's expression suddenly went blank, her gaze freezing over like the pavement below his feet. Again, she gestured to the ninja with the blade, signaling for its edge to cut deeper into his brother's skin, drawing a more steady flow of blood to course in the little river trickling down Raph's neck.

That time, Raphael couldn't help but utter a sudden cry of pain.

"If you refuse me, Leonardo, your brother shall perish. And that, my friend, is the only promise I have ever made to you."

"Fuck that stupid bitch, Leo!" he roared despite the coursing blood, the sword, the pounding in his head, the weakness that gripped him. And despite it all, he still managed to make his voice sound strong. "Jus' cut her in half" he said gravely. "Forget about me… I'll be okay."

And that's when something thick and heavy like a rock sunk deep into the pit of Leo's stomach, the rushing wave of grief, sadness, pain, fear, everything drifting on a current of blood and sorrow, failure, guilt. Raphael was kneeling there, bleeding and injured on the cold concrete, praying for mercy, for his once final sacrifice at the tip of a ninja's tanto blade. He was willing to die for this, willing to give it all away just for the chance that Leo just may be able to reach Karai before her ninja overcame him. The thought of it made him feel hollow, heavy, full of sadness that this was what Raphael felt of his life, that it was worth giving it all away just for the one small chance that Karai could be killed.

There was a quick, wicked laugh raining from the rooftop now, stinging his ears as much as his younger brother's hopeless words.

"Your _otouto-chan_ is out of your control, Leonardo" she scoffed bitterly. "His tongue is sharp and violent. Does he understand it is not wise to insult the mistress of his captor? Such insolence will surely result in his death" she said darkly, leaping silently from her perch on crumbling rooftop ledge, just feet away from Leonardo who merely stood, eyes wide and disbelieving, swords trembling in his hands.

This wasn't how it was supposed to be. This wasn't how the world was meant to work. Never did he know that something so ugly, so scarred, so deathly hollow and wicked could ever exist in the same life that held such beauty, so many graceful things.

This was the world that Raphael sees playing through the shadows at night. This was the twisted, blackened life that had so recently become his obsession, his passion, his own life incarnate.

Death. Needless, hopeless death.

Death was never a thing to ever be taken lightly, but his own brother was willing to throw it all away. It was suicide his brother's voice had called for now, sending something chilling and electric like the clawing hand of death charring at his bones. Never had he felt so dark, so empty, such a heavy sickness in his heart.

Feeling the blade shift slightly in the open cut across his neck, Raphael looked to his brother with hungry eyes, waiting for him to make his move and bring him to his final end.

But moments turned to eons as he waited for Leo, looking so suddenly blank and frozen in the failing light, now casting him in shadows until only the blazing steel of his katana shone in the newborn moon. He wouldn't move, he couldn't move, he just couldn't find it in his heart, in his soul, to hand his brother off to his executioner. Even if the odds were different, even if he had a chance to strike her, nothing could ever make him sacrifice the life of his brother, even if he was kneeling there bleeding on the pavement, eyes begging him to end it now.

And that was when Raphael had decided he'd had enough. In one swift movement he tucked into a roll beneath the ninja's leg, using his last ounce of strength to stand and strike him sharply in the back of his head. When the ninja crumpled to the ground, every foot solider still standing all around attacked as one, a flash of blades and cutting edges, strikes that came faster than Raph could handle, the sound of Leonardo's swords clashing quickly to meet them.

But try as they may, two brothers short and Raphael with barely enough strength to stand, they were gravely outnumbered and overtaxed. In a matter of moments, Raphael was thrown onto the ground again, struggling desperately to catch his breath and gripping the cut upon his neck that suddenly began to bleed in torrents between his fingers and down his neck as the force of the struggle peeled the flesh open wider, letting free the black sludgy clots, exposing the bright crimson once again.

Leonardo's swords met the pavement as two Foot ninja took hold of his arms. He didn't struggle against them as Karai approached him steadily, hunger blazing in her eyes.

"You shoulda killed tha bitch when ya had the chance!" Raphael roared in frustration, taking his hand away from the wound long enough to gaze at the crimson blood coating it.

Leo's throat tightened suddenly when Karai turned to Raphael's new captor, venom in her voice, in her eyes.

"Silence him!" she commanded, and Leo's eyes went blank as he heard the crushing sound of impact, the swift kick to his chest, the tortured grunt of pain, the sound of his brother wheezing and dry heaving upon the pavement.

Her eyes turned back to him sharply, her lips tight with anger when she spoke. "You have refused to surrender yourself with dignity, Leonardo. It was a kindly offer, but your insolent_ otouto-chan_ dares to insult me when I choose to show you mercy."

Her eyes blazed as she stepped closer, just inches away, her breath chill against his skin. "This is your final chance. Surrender now and I will spare you your honor. Refuse, and I will make it my duty to strip you of every last shred of dignity you possess."

But Leonardo said nothing, only stared back to her stabbing gaze blankly, every moment of his life flashing him by. Raphael, his troubled younger brother, willing to pay the ultimate sacrifice for no reason at all, his katana, left cold in reckless abandon upon the ice covered pavement, the growing dark, those vicious eyes. Everything, all, it all was his fault, his failure once again.

Raphael, breathless and bleeding in the hungry darkness, a black ninja's silver tanto blade pointed at his already tattered throat. Mikey, Don, back at the Lair, waiting for his return.

They wouldn't know until it was too late, they would never find him in time if she chose to kill him on the spot. Maybe she'd be waiting for them, sitting next to his brother's cold, dead body until they found the Battle Shell, and she struck, exacted her revenge, and restored the honor of one who least deserved it.

He would die in the name of the Shredder. They would all perish for his name.

But no matter what would happen, whatever cruel and twisted things Karai had in mind to strip him of his honor, he would suffer through it all, fight against it tooth and nail, loose it all to the wind, do everything he can to prevent it from happening.

The Shredder deserved his dishonor.

"Your silence troubles me" Karai said finally, the cloak of night now making her but a wraith among the shadows. "But I cannot decide your fate. Only you have chosen the path your life has taken."

She paused but still, he remained silent.

"So be it your choice" she said gravely, a hint of pleasure betrayed within her voice. "But I assure you, your silence will not save your brothers' lives. I have made my vow, and you have sealed their fate."

"They will die in their dishonor."

Leonardo felt like he could collapse from the weight of those words, the pain-filled cries of his dying brothers filling his mind like predictions of the future, all his fault, all his failure.

Slowly, surely, he had failed them all.

"Take them" she ordered coldly into the night before she disappeared, the two last words he could remember before the darkness came to claim him and his gruesome fate was finally sealed.


	8. Chapter 8: Dark Awakening

_A/N: Hello dear readers, I hope you have been enjoying this fic thus far. After many weeks of struggling with the plotline, I have finally settled on a satisfying course of action. _

_So this is my final note of warning. This fic WILL BE DARK from here on in. Don't be looking for a happy endings, don't be waiting for the light. There will be no slash here, and no character deaths, but the imagery and angst in this chapter and those that will follow will be dark and at some points, gruesome. So please, be prepared, and enjoy!_

_Much love,_

_Willowfly_

* * *

Chapter 8: Dark Awakening

When Leo slowly cracked open his eyes, still heavy like stone against the tranquilizer's pull, he felt damp, cold ground beneath his legs, his hands, pressed up stiff against his shell. But when his eyes did fight back that heavy fog of sleep, no light came to greet him from behind the cracks, only dull, quick darkness.

The stone of sleep still pressed against his brain, he shook himself slightly and blinked into the consuming black, a light offended moan escaping his lips, echoing off the hard damp walls.

He was in a cell- undoubtedly a cell chiseled from the coldest concrete- coated in something that felt strangely like blood, sticky, black and thick. Poisonous. He could hear the echoing drips of condensation pooling on the ground from above, the steady drip serving as his only comfort, his only constant in this steadying world of change.

Slowly his misty mind cleared to remember the pounding rivulets of flashing memory, raining down like grey cold sleet penetrating into his every muscle, making him remember like twisted fever dreams and quake, fear for his brothers, fear for Raphael, the memory of him bleeding and dry heaving on the ice caked pavement.

But no hint of life now stirred in the pitch black ugliness of this concrete prison where he sat, borne down by the weight of gravity, of wickedness, of failure. He had failed his brothers. Again, he had failed Raphael.

With only the sound of breath, of his own hot blood pounding in his ears, the sound of hellhounds come to claim their dead, he let the silence ravage him, taste his flesh, make him bleed as his brothers were sure to do, fated to do, destined to die at his own hand because he had made the wrong decision. Again, he could not save them.

As his mind spun and settled on these sickly things, the death-filled gaze of his still young brothers, mouths gaping trickling blood like carp captive in a garden pool, chill cold lips forming one word over and over again, echoing through his mind like his labored breathing against the hollow walls. "_Why_."

_"Why"_

Why had he failed again, why had he chosen silence, why had he refused to play the hero, refused to listen to Raphael, refused to indulge in his own twisted fantasies of cutting Karai in two.

Why.

It was a question that he could never answer, incapable of answering, a statement rather than a question itself. Why had he always failed when all he did was try, when all he did was think things through, travel to the corners of the earth to learn to never fail again, to mend the tortured wounds and make his family whole again. Why… why had it all been for nothing?

His mind clear of the drug that had sent him into such dreamless blissful sleep, he began to crave it again, to close his eyes and search for it behind the darkened world and banish the demons that dared to rear their ugly heads again, the monsters that wore his own face, the things that plagued him all those months ago, clawing their way back to the surface.

Failed. He had failed. Again, he had failed.

He closed his eyes, just a thicker type of dark within the hollow concrete prison, chills crawling like insects through his skin, and leant his head back against the hard stone wall as if to beckon sleep. But that misty haze, that impenetrable cloak of darkness never came to him again.

And now, it seemed, his mind would never dare to clear ever again.

He was tainted, torn, failed. Now, when he shut his eyes, all he could see was blood.

Closing his eyes tighter despite the unshakeable images of bleeding, of torn flesh, the looks of toxic betrayal on his brothers' faces playing murderously behind the blackness. He saw Raphael again, begging him to end it, to kill him in the name of others, to make that final sacrifice and give it all away. All because he had failed.

And Leo saw himself holding that blood soaked tanto to his throat, slicing through the arteries until his brother bled out onto the pavement and went still, his own head bowed and solemn under the crushing gaze of silence, the dull, pain filled gaze of the dead, of Karai.

Those images of his brother's blood pooling on his feet, mingling with the ashen snow made him gasp and choked back a disgusting sob that reached down into his bowels and gripped at his lungs, twisting till the blood poured out, echoing through the crumbling world around him.

"Shaddup Leo" came a groggy voice from the other side of the dark-soaked room, sending sudden waves of relief pulsing through his bloodstream, letting him escape the demons for at least one more fleeting moment, a little longer until the darkness came to claim him again. The glowing eyes of hellhounds. But Raph needed him now, and the needed could not die.

He quickly sucked in a sharp breath and cleared his throat, banishing the waver from his voice when he finally stopped shaking enough to speak. "Raph… are you okay?"

"'M fine" his brother grunted sharply, even his denial of pain betraying him as he stirred slightly in the dark enough for Leo to make out his dull silhouette. After a quick intake of breath, he said weakly "Lost a lotta blood, I think."

Leonardo shuffled over to where his brother's shadowed form lay in a heap against the opposite wall, finding quickly that the cell was smaller then he'd known before. How he hadn't heard Raphael's soft breathing before.

Maybe it was the silent screaming in his head that made him drown.

But none of that mattered now.

"Let me look" he said softly, reaching out into the cloak of black, still impenetrable even after his pupils dilated so wide he could feel the stretch, his fingertips grazed his brother's plastron, the sticky coat of thickening blood, the smell of copper filling his nostrils, running like hot oil down his throat. He fought back the urge to gag, tracing the river upwards to his collarbone, the tender broken flesh at his neck, the gaping wound that lay weeping there.

"Don't touch me" he wheezed angrily when his fingers grazed the wound, pulling away as if he had been burned. Leo pulled his hand away too, narrowing his eyes into an offended glare as if through the dark, his brother could see it burning.

"It isn't bleeding anymore" Leo said coldly, letting all sense of emotion drain from his voice. It was easier to bear that way.

"I don't care, Leo. Leave me alone."

Leo sat back angrily on his heels as Raphael shifted uncomfortably against the wall, moaning softly in the silent room.

"Just… go away… I'm tired" he groaned softly, letting his heavy eyelids flicker closed, leaning heavily against the wall.

Leo reached out a hand to touch him, but quickly pulled himself away. Sighing,  
he spoke louder now. "Raph, you can't go to sleep, you hit your head."

Quickly, the turtle's eyes flew open again, his frustrated growl the only hint toward their venomous glare in the thickening cloak of black.

"I_ didn't_ hit my head" he grunted furiously "so could you shut trap for _two seconds. _After I'm asleep ya can cry about this all you want."

Leo's body stiffened from where he sat, staring tight lipped and straight ahead into the blinding dark, his eyes still dim at best to penetrate it.

"I wasn't crying."

"Yes, you _were _crying. I could hear ya like, two feet away from me."

Leo paused, held his breath, and let the silence envelop him again.

"I thought…"

"Yeah, you thought nothin'" Raph grunted sharply, turning sideways away from his brother's voice, pressing his hot cheek against the cool concrete. But when he meant to draw his legs up in front of him, he had nearly forgotten the break. The dark room suddenly flashed bright when it came to remind him, the gnawing, mind-numbing pain of the rough edges of bone grating against bone. He could _hear _it grinding, and fought back the sudden urge to vomit.

He clawed the stone walls for something to hold on to, to take him away from the pain throbbing from his own body. Closing his eyes and screaming hoarsely against it, his hands somehow found their way to Leo's shoulders, gripping them hard enough to make his brother wince.

Breathing quickly stinging gulps of chilled poison air, chest heaving against its thickness, fighting against the static pulse of shock slowly creeping in, he held fast onto his brother, the only stable thing in his life he could hold onto in this darkening world of silent hell and damnation.

Leonardo closed his eyes as well, wishing that through his brother's desperate grip, he could absorb his pain, pain that he could have prevented, pain his family could be spared. He wished he could take it all onto himself and let his heart be crushed by it, could feel everything twisting around inside his brain incarnate into something physical, something real, something as harsh and painful as his brother's tortured grip, digging into his flesh.

Slowly, Raphael caught his breath, lungs pumped full of thick, damp air until they begged him for no more. His grip loosened when the fiery pain became a pounding throb, but still, he hesitated to let go.

There were so few things that he could hold constant in the changing world of dancing shadows, in the poison air, his twisting thoughts, all the little fractured pieces he had come to be, forced himself to become on those darkened rooftop midnights staring onto the broken world of humanity.

But his brothers, his family, that was something he could rely on. That was something that could withstand the test of time, a boulder against the rushing current, strong when he refused to be, when he decided to throw his life away.

That was the torturous part. That was what hurt the most. They were strong while all his life, he was only pretending to be. He leaned on them, all of them, even little Mikey, not truly small, but his younger brother only in spirit. And even Mike could lean in stronger, never let him fall apart if he wanted to. And how did he repay them?

How could he ever.

Ever since the surface world had called to him, beckoned him to their city streets, made him pity them, avenge for them, fight to protect them, make them whole, be strong for complete and perfect strangers in the name of something he could barely understand. That was how he repaid them. He abandoned them.

Maybe it was because he saw himself reflected in the eyes of those filthy little children playing ball in run-downed streets. Maybe because he sympathized with the whores who had to make do with whatever deadly things life sent their way, their entire life itself a risk, a misunderstanding, only something they _had _to do, because that was the life they were born into. That was the life he knew.

But maybe it was because he knew he could never repay them, could never let them in to a world they could never understand, to see all those tender guts and inner workings he kept so expertly hidden away beneath all that steel, all those gruesome battle scars, his impenetrable, opaque eyes.

He could never let them in, never expect them to understand. And that was why he ran away, fled from the shadows, the stark reminders of his own failures to be strong for his family when they needed him the most, to be strong enough to let his obsession with the city lights slip away and be brave enough to live in the world that Leo lived, the world where honor and Bushido counted for something, and family was the only thing that mattered.

"I have to reset your leg."

Tearing away from the spider web snares of his own dark imagination, he lifted his eyes to meet a mirror, that same dark amber brown, more honey colored than his own, clearer, like sunlight trapped in bottles. In the dark, he could not see them clearly, but in his heart, he remembered the golden flecks well, the brightness, the fierce spark of loyalty and compassion that his brother so gladly shared with the world, so alike his own amber eyes, but so different in their clarity.

He could feel his brother's hot breath on his cheek, so close to his own he could taste it as he pulled away and his fingers released their death grip.

He wanted to pull away further, to fight, to tear himself back and rebuild the walls again, pour cement into the cracks and deny he needed his brother's help.

But he did. He so desperately did.

Without a word, he nodded, but sucked in a painful breath as Leo touched his swollen shin, sending ripping currents of fire coursing up his leg, making his heart pound furiously with adrenaline. Every muscle in his body was screaming for retreat. But instead, he grit and bore it as Leo turned to look up at him again.

"You ready?" he said gravely. "This is going to hurt like hell."

"I know… just… talk to me, ok?"

Leo let out a little morbid chuckle despite the gravity of the situation. "Talk to you? Just a minute ago you couldn't wait for me to 'shut my trap.'"

Through his grit teeth, Raph hissed at him and closed his eyes, swallowing painfully. "Just… don't be an ass… gotta take my mind off it."

Shakily, Leo sighed and kneeled on the concrete, ready to set the broken bone and possibly hurt his brother enough to make him black out. The conversation was tense, weak, but he had to try. He owed Raph that much for his failure.

"I wish I knew where we are."

"Me too" Raph said sharply as his brother touched his leg again, feeling for the direction of the break. Beads of cold sweat started pouring down his face, his hands clenched into fists when his brother paused.

"Keep talkin', Fearless."

"Ha, yeah, Fearless" Leonardo snorted, the taste of his most resented nickname bitter in his mouth. "I am so far away from fearless right now its not even funny. I never can figure out why you call me that."

His voice was shaking now, and so were his fingertips. Before his brother could respond, his eyes shot up to Raph's sweat-soaked face.

"You ready?"

Silently, eyes shut tight, Raph nodded, every muscle in his body wound and contracted, nearly catatonic.

"One… two… three."

Snap.

The sound that echoed through the tiny cavern was both sickening and terrifying as his brother's feral cry mingled with the sudden crack of grating bone settling together again. His hands still shaking, Leo leaned up against the cold, damp wall and listened to his brother hyperventilate, his gasping breath in time with his own pounding heartbeat. But when that breath never faltered, never relaxed and gave way to the sudden pull of sleep, his heart pounded even more furiously in his ears.

"You… you are fearless, Leo" his brother croaked weakly, gasping for breath with his every word. "I.. I'm tha one… who's scared."

Leo swallowed, nearly drawn to tears with the pain in his brother's voice, those stabbing, heart-wrenching words. He was obviously not thinking clearly, his mind numbed by the pain, bringing down the iron walls. Shaking, he rested a hand on his trembling, sweat-soaked shoulder and blinked away their sting.

"Go to sleep now, Raphie. It's ok. I'll be here."

But Raph's breathing never slowed. "I… I can't… there's… too much."

After a time, the silence sat and festered heavy down upon them. It didn't take much for Leo to know exactly what Raph feared when he closed his eyes. For the last week and a half, both he and his brother had lost sleep to the endless nightmares that kept them lying awake at night, staring up at their cracked and water-stained ceilings in their separate rooms, so different, and yet still so alike. Still brothers underneath it all.

Leonardo's voice shook when he forced himself to speak. But still, he had to speak. "I'm so sorry… I… I've failed you again. I've failed all of you…I'm so sorry."

But Raphael's head shook furiously in the dark. "It's not… your fault… stop pretending like it is. I… did this… to myself, to us."

Hot tears stung inside his throat, in his blinded eyes as his brother's muscles contracted in shock, making him shiver violently against the concrete wall, against his brother's shoulder where they sat, side by side, suffering together, as brothers, as if their contact could share the load, the crushing burden of pain both physical and burning in their hearts, blackening their souls until they realized they were not so different after all.

When had they forgotten?

_Why _had they forgotten?

Leo swallowed, eyes shut tight as if it made a difference. "Please, Raph, you need to go to sleep. It'll feel better when you wake up. And don't move your leg or I'll have to reset it again."

"It's… not your fault" Raphael shuddered again, his teeth chattering against the inescapable chill of shock.

Leo couldn't stand it anymore, like the glowing eyes of hellhounds had finally spotted him through the darkness, full of murderous hate and hunger. Slowly, he reached over to his brother's neck beside the scabbing cut and Raphael, feeling his brother's breath on his face again, opened his eyes, pupils dilated to pinpricks by the pain.

"No…" he groaned, whimpering slightly. But Leo did not falter.

Gently, his fingers found the pressure point he was looking for. Gazing deeply into his brother's opaque eyes made clear and fevered by the shock, begging him, pleading him again, and pressed.

And as the darkness called his brother's name, Leonardo sat back on the wall and listened, felt the fevered skin of his troubled, broken brother, and waited for his breath to slow into that steady rhythm of sleep, escaping the pain for just one more moment, one more precious second of this inescapable life.

One day, he would fix this. One day, he would make it right, undo the damage he had done, mop up the blood, stitch tight the wounds, and make Raph see the world he wanted to see, the world he had believed all his life was true.

Because once, in times of peaceful dreams, he knew a world filled with beauty and with graceful things, with unwavering light. It was a world, that with every passing dark sky day, was becoming harder and harder to believe.


	9. Chapter 9: The Colors of Shadows

Chapter 9: The Colors of Shadows

It was dark, far darker than any moment Raphael could ever remember, like night without the moon or stars or that sickly haze of light pollution that clung to the blakened city skies like a constant looming omen, like even the sky wasn't allowed to pretend it was beautiful.

Raphael knew all too well what lurked beneath it all, and none of it was ever beautiful. He had seen it, watching from behind all those infinite shadows of his memory, recalling every bloodbath he had ever witnessed, every dying scream of pain he himself had caused. He knew all too well the crack of bone and hungry eyes of the dead, what it was like to take a life and feel a soul when it's squeezed from a victim's body with his own bare hands. He knew well every dark and twisted thing that life had brought to him, everything he saw reflected in himself. Every bit of this world, every bit of his own soul, was being ravaged into pieces, letting the blood run free as if the city thirsted for it, as if the poison rivers of the sewers now ran crimson red, new arteries underground to feed the pulsing world above.

It was the city's fault… no, it was his own damn fault for all this darkness now. It seemed to be oozing out of his every pore, made disturbingly tangible somehow and far too real. The heavy blackness clung to all the walls, coated the ceiling and the insides of his eyelids like a disease, like rotting plague sores, dripping oily onto the floor, yawning wide to swallow him whole. The darkness hung thick in the air, filling his lungs until he choked and birthed more into the world.

It was his fault for all this darkness; for letting humanity make a freak out of him.

_Freak._

That was the word… the word he had heard amongst the shadows of that sleet soaked night, burned with adrenaline and blood lust in the heat of battle, made him snap, made him lose control, pained with the sudden, primal urge to kill.

That night, he had earned his title well.

Because that time, he had given in to the freak inside of him.

And he had killed for a word.

He wanted to roar, to scream, to tear off his own flesh as if in this nightmare, he did have flesh to tear. It was his fault the darkness was oozing all inside him now, coating every inch of the eyeless world. Every time he coughed, more of it was born, coating the floor, the walls, running down his plastron. Like the thick blood of demons clawing at the gates of hell.

He was a freak. Even amongst his family, he was a freak.

Something told him he wasn't awake anymore. The darkness hadn't been this heavy before, this frighteningly tangible, and Leo had been there, saying things he couldn't quite remember, probably blaming himself for mistakes he hadn't made.

Maybe the darkness had swallowed him too.

The thought of Leo alone, brooding as he slept, weighing himself down with all of Raphael's own mistakes was enough to make him feel violently ill. In his dream, or waking nightmare, or vision of the twisted things to come, he wretched upon the floor more thick black darkness that pooled and spattered around his feet, oily like gasoline rainbows, gathering on the concrete to devoured him whole.

He was a freak. Possessed by the hands of darkness filling up his lungs, he was a freak.

Leo thought that he could save him. He always had thought that he could save him. But even before the city had poisoned him, even before the fall, he could never have been saved. To be this broken, this dark, this dead, it had always been his destiny. And with every passing dark-filled day, every day his heartbeat pumped more savage rage coursing through his bloodstream, he got farther away from his brother's reach. Every single day, every drop of blood he shed, every brittle bone he broke, every life he took, made him more, made him less, made him deader to the life that had been forced upon him than ever before.

In his vision, in his nightmare strung across the darkest threads of his imagination, he could see them now, feel their breaths like the chilling mist of ghosts: his brothers asking him, begging him to stop.

Because he always knew he would go down fighting.

Because he always thought he was invincible.

Because you can't break what's already been broken. You can't protect what can't be saved.

But never could he have known that when that day did come, when the hounds of hell had finally come to claim their prey, he would take all his brothers down with him.

They would die. Their destinies had always lain entwined within his own like silken threads among all those darkened spider's webs, and he never even knew it. He had lived his entire life valuing nothing, without worth, broken beyond repair behind those concrete walls. There was nothing left to fix. He was hollow as those hungry eyes of ghosts he saw in all his dreams. That kid on the docks lying dead in the hail storm, his blood smeared upon the wall, letting the dirty snow fall around his face, gather in his filthy hair, upon his tattered clothes because never could he protest, never again could he fight or move away. Then, the city- it reclaimed him and left his spirit to haunt his dreams.

He had tried so hard to fill it- that gap between the walls and broken pieces, but now, all it was filled with was suffocating darkness and his brothers' bloodstains on his hands.

He always knew he'd go down fighting, and now, like martyrs, his brothers would go down too.

* * *

Leonardo had sat in the dark for a long time, letting his eyes adjust and his imagination wander. He had been staring blindly into the shadows long enough to see their shifting colors, their drifting shapes and shifting patterns changing before his eyes like black reflections in a garden pool.

It reminded him of the Ancient One, of the rock gardens with fragile little bubbling ponds filled with coy and moonlight beneath the silver stars. He had gone to the gardens surrounding the temple many times at night during his time away, the sound of quiet water reminding him of home. But now, it felt like he was farther away from home than he had ever been before.

At least then, there had been a purpose, even if that purpose now seemed to be all for nothing.

This time, there was no telling if home would still be there if he ever got out of this mess. This time, there was no guaranteeing his brothers would be waiting for his return. Karai had willed their capture, vowed her revenge beneath her father's name, bent on marring every ounce of their honor, and nothing would stop her from finding them and bringing them here. Mike and Don were good fighters, but he doubted they would ever stand a chance alone against Karai.

He almost hoped the others wouldn't try to find them. He wished they would just stay in the sewers and wait until he had a plan, but Leo had no idea how long it had been since they had disappeared, or even if they had noticed something was amiss.

They could have been locked in there for hours, days, months. Either way, it felt like eons. Devoid of light, full of only breath and stagnant air, the minutes stretched on for years. He felt like he was just sitting there, waiting for his execution, waiting for his two brothers to find them and bring an end to it all before he slowly went insane.

Maybe insanity was slowly creeping in, disguised as all those dancing colors in the shadows, and maybe that wasn't entirely a bad thing. Maybe if he would just let his mind go, the guilt wouldn't still be trying to eat him raw.

Raphael had been asleep a long time, longer than he should have been. His leg was swollen grotesquely so even without the light. Leo had reached down and touched it a while ago, and even in his heavy sleep, his brother had cried out in pain.

In the silence, he could still hear the scream echoing off the damp, cold shadows.

He had tried to get some sleep himself, to lean up against the cold concrete and close his eyes for only a second, his brother's head cradled in his lap. But sleep never came to him. Even in the dark, it would never claim him through all that leaden guilt. So instead he sat and listened to his brother's labored breath, carrying with it the startling rattle of a dying man. He murmured words strung together like crows upon a power line, incoherent and devoid of any sense or pattern.

But maybe that was just his failing mind.

The only word he could make out was whispered, harsh and painful like a sore festering upon raw skin. One word: "_freak," _muttered over and over again like a mantra, a desperate, pleading prayer, like he wished he could believe it wasn't true.

It was then that Leonardo felt a pang of sudden fear, like a knife wrenched into his abdomen and twisted, the thought carving at his insides: brother wouldn't make it through the night. Sure, there had been many times in battle where the circumstances had been grave. But never had it hit him as hard as it did in that dank little cell. Never did it hang there before him like an ominous, heavy cloud, as tangible as the shifting shadows before his eyes, like silent ravens in the night, the patient, lust-filled eyes of soul collectors waiting for the word to make their kill.

He breathed and listened to its sound echo off the walls, mingling with the struggled breath of his own brother, wondering how and why they had come so far from where their lives had started, so far away from home. They had wandered away from innocence like they hadn't even known it, so far away from the bliss and peace of ignorance so fast it was blinding to recall. He could still remember, if only faintly, the trace of a smile upon his brother's lips. Raph smiling, now that had to be a legend.

He ran a hand softly over his brother's face, slowly, as if to remind himself of the timid grin of innocence that had once lingered there, a smile, that would seem so out of place in a world like this, where the lives of all his brothers were contracted to the devil, signed by his own bloodstained hands.

He traced the lines buried deep in the furrows of his brother's brow, touched the edges of his bandana and found it moist with sweat. He hesitated, pulled back with his hand lingering just inches from his skin as he blinked in disbelief. He was burning up.

He touched his skin again, but drew his hand away as if the fever had burned him, sucking in a panicked, woeful breath. There was something seriously wrong here, something wrong enough to make his heart flutter painfully in his chest, the silence was abuzz with one million voices behind the shadows, so loud it almost hurt as the blood pounded in his ears. There was no way this was a concussion.

He wrenched his eyes shut and pressed his forehead to his brother's, as if he could seep away the fever into his own skin. Raphael groaned slightly at his touch and he could feel his eyes dancing underneath his lids as if captured in a dream.

In the silence, his whisper could have been a scream.

"You're sick. I should have known you were sick. I saw it in the dojo, but I didn't… I didn't… I should have stopped you" his voice was shaky, made rough and choked by unshed tears, his breath fighting him like his brother's. "Why do you have to be so stupid, Raphael? Why do you have to hate me so much?"

"'cause you changed."

The sound of his voice made Leonardo blink into the darkness and pull himself away. Even without light, he could see his brother's bleary eyes, made bright by fever dreams, oceans of relief washing over him as he met his brother's gaze.

"I…"

He didn't know what to say, only stammered over the words for a while until he found it was best to just fall silent. He had changed? Raphael just couldn't possibly be making any sense right now. He had so suddenly spiked a fever that could put black asphalt in the summer to shame.

"You know what I mean" he grunted, eyes half open and heavy- lidded.

"Raph… you're sick."

But Raphael grinned back at him wryly, almost guiltily, trying not to move his painfully swollen leg as he pushed himself up to sit against the concrete wall and winced.

"I been sick for a long time."

It almost sounded like he was laughing.

"You woke me up" he grumbled hazily, shaking his head, he leant it back against the cold concrete and shut his eyes tight against the sudden wave of nausea and dizziness that hit him like a tsunami swell. "Ya shouldn't 've woke me up. Now th' dark's gunna getcha too."

Leonardo hung his head and cradled it in his hands, fighting back the sudden urge to bash it open against the wall.

"I'm sorry" he choked out, rocking slightly against the weight. "I failed… I failed again. I failed you all!"

"Ya cryin' 'gain?" Raphael rasped harshly, only a strangled, accusing slur.

Leo didn't stir, refused to answer because he knew it would only come out as a pitiful sob.

"Ain't ya fault… I was born like this" he wheezed, squeezing his eyes shut tighter and coughed so hard he felt like his lungs would rip and the darkness would pour out of him like in his dreams.

Leo peeked out from between his trembling fingers cupped around his face, as if he could see anything in that impenetrable darkness. Raph wasn't making any sense again, but still, he had hit a nerve. It was his fault. He was the leader, and anything that happened to his brothers was all his fault. It was his duty to protect them, not to send them to the slaughter like a herd of cattle because of his bad choices, because he couldn't save Raphael from his. He had driven his brother to this, and if he had only known, if he had only paid closer attention, none of this would have ever happened.

He pulled his hands away and stared at Raphael, who had his eyes still wrenched closed and his head leaned against the dampened wall, shivering violently with his teeth grit against the aching cold Leo himself could not feel.

Softly, inaudibly Leo whispered to all the shadows in the room, cursing the ghosts that made all those dancing colors, that painful guilty twist inside his stomach when it all became too heavy to bear.

"It is my fault. All of this, it's all my fault."

But his thoughts were quickly shattered like a pane of clouded glass when Raphael seemed to choke on the darkness. His eyes were still screwed tight and every muscle in his body contracted and tensed. The thought of it, the sound, the pain was enough to reignite the fear that had burned within Leonardo just moments before, fearing for the threads of his brother's stark mortality, strung so ominously across the raging fires of his own personal hell, fraying beneath the weight of fate, the seal of wicked destiny.

Leonardo reached out for his brother's shoulder, as if his touch could stave away the hands of death.

"Raph, you've got to hold on, ok? I'll find us a way out of here, I promise. I promise I'll make things right. I won't fail you again."

Painfully, Raphael opened his eyes and met his brother's gaze, weak beneath his grasp as cold sweat trickled down his brow. He wanted to argue, he wanted to say something harsh and biting hissed between his teeth. He to tell Leo to stop being so stupid, that none of this was his fault, that it had been his own dumb mistakes that had got them there. It was his own uncontrollable rage, his own bad decisions falling one after another. Because in reality, he was the one who had failed his entire family. He was the one who put them all in danger. Because of his bad choices, they all were going to die. Even if Karai never found Don and Mikey, he would probably die here rotting in this putrid cell, sitting next to Leonardo, drowning in their own pools of guilt.

He knew he should have stopped. He should have known his entire life was like one big, bad idea. He had been having dizzy spells for days before it all had even happened, and he knew in the back of his mind that he probably had a fever when he was fighting with Leo in the dojo. But even when the night air ravaged his lungs running on the rooftops, he was too stubborn to stop. Even when Don begged him that night to put an end to it, even after the argument of a lifetime, after his own father's pleading words, after the kitchen table was thrown over on its side, as torn broken as he felt now, he never even thought of stopping.

And even after all of that, even after fighting thugs and drug rushers, gangsters and rapists, murderers and ninja every night of his free life, it had taken just a stupid bike accident to tear him down.

But karma is a funny thing.

It was too bad that in a few days, he'll probably be too dead to laugh.

Raphael shivered violently against the cold, and his brother huddled closer next to him for warmth. A growl sprung from deep within his throat, but Leonardo didn't flinch. He gave up the fight quickly, too sick to even protest.

"Feels like 'm drownin'" he mumbled through his quivering breath, eyes shut tight after another fit of violent coughs tore apart his lungs, fighting back the heavy curtain of sleep that had suddenly thrust itself upon him. His head was nodding against the weight, but he was afraid that if he gave in, he would never wake up again.

Before he even tried, he hated himself for it, but he slowly found himself resting his pounding head on his older brother's shoulder. Leo was probably loving every minute of it, but it felt good to be next to something warm and comforting.

It was the closest thing to hell Raphael could ever imagine.

Leonardo was looking straight ahead, eyes fixed in a murderous glare into the heavy black as if he could see something there behind the shadows, as if he could stare them down and will them all away through sheer determination. He could feel his brother's burning forehead pressed against the nape of his neck, his cheek resting against his shoulder, and he had the sudden urge to hold him, to grasp onto his brother like it was the only thing that would keep them both grounded, keep them both from being swallowed by the dark.

His breath hitched as he fought back the threat of tears that stung his eyes. Raphael hated when he tried to cry. Never did he ever shed the tears that forced their way into his throat like a dam about to break, never did he indulge in that primal urge to howl with despair and claw away at the prison walls until his fingers bled, but even without the proof, even without all that pain made tangible, Raph would know. Somehow, he always knew.

He could feel his brother going limp against his shoulder as his throat still clawed to find some air amongst his lung's death rattle. His brow was still creased and his teeth were grit in pain.

As he heard the gasping wheezes, the burning fever on his skin, one word ran through his mind like an inescapable omen. No matter how hard he tried to get around it, tried to concentrate again on the colors of the shadows, still it echoed, haunting through his mind.

Pneumonia.

It had to be pneumonia.

His eyes grew wide and searched around the shadows as if in search of an answer. Suddenly, his heart had kick-started into the deafening thrum of cornered prey. If it was pneumonia, his brother shouldn't be here, in this cold and damp little cell, the musty droplets coating the walls and ceiling, pooling putrid on the floor as if the walls themselves could cry and bleed.

His breath quickened as his heart fluttered in his chest. If he had been anything close to calm and collected before, he was panicking now. He had to find a way out of there before his brother came any closer to death, before the darkness ate them both alive, before Don and Mikey were found and sacrificed, one by one upon the alter of the darkest evil to ever stalk the gates of hell. Killed by the hand of that wicked she-demon carved from that devil's putrid spawn.

He had to put an end to this. Now.

Easing his sleeping brother down onto the dank and filthy floor, he stood for the first time in what seemed like years, feeling his legs try to give out beneath him. But necessity, destiny, duty, honor, it all urged him forward. He was big brother, and it was his duty to protect, his duty never to fail, never to crumble at the face of defeat.

Knowing he would never wake Raphael from his sickness-induced slumber, he called out into the eternal night, the cursed name of that wicked she-demon, ringing deafeningly and horrifying off the bloodstained walls of their tiny, pitch-black cell. He would wallow in this darkness and wait for fate to claim him no more. Now it was time to end this foolishness and teach Karai what honor is truly about.

Soon, the demon would fall.

"Karai!" he bellowed like the sickest curse, letting his lungs tremble with the sound, screaming into the hollow darkness with every fiber of his being, every ounce of raw adrenaline coursing through his bloodstream.

"Karai!"

He could have called it twice, or one million times by now, screaming until his throat grew raw and prayed for him to stop. But never would he stop. Until that devil reared her wretched face into this tortured, darkened world where she belonged, he would never stop.

His throat felt like it could bleed when the sound of scraping metal like a latch being unlocked broke through the ruptured silence. He held his breath and gathered up his rage to face the evil waiting on the other side.

The light blinded him when the door swung open, and he covered his hands over his eyes as it burned like staring into the sun, his pupils contracting painfully to pinpricks. He cringed but did not waver, forcing his hands down onto his sides and staring into the painful light with half-blind eyes drawn into a venomous, confident glare.

"What is the meaning of this?" cried a shifting shape crowned by a halo of blinding light. At that moment, she seemed almost angelic, like a creature sent down from the heavens to save his soul. But Leo knew the world didn't work that way, that the creature standing there before him, flanked by three others of her kind, was born out of the blackest pits of hell.

Slowly, his eyes began to adjust and he met her livid emerald glare, refusing to look away.

"I have waited in here long enough!" he spat in his strongest voice, shoulders squared against the raging torrents of fire pouring in against the black. "My brother is sick and injured, Karai. If you have any shred of honor left in your wicked soul you'll take me and let him go."

"Let him go?" she roared ferociously "each one of you will pay for my father's fallen honor. Each one of you will pay with your lives! So do not ask me, to spare any of you. I have no pity for those who have destroyed my father's name."

"Then why don't you just kill me!" he roared through gritted teeth, his muscles wound and electric, ready for the attack, but knowing full well that he cannot. He had to make his sacrifice. He had to do his duty and never fail again. This, he feared, was the only way to make it right.

Karai grinned a hideous sideways smile upon her demon lips and laughed bitterly into the putrid cell. Leonardo still glared straight ahead, refusing to show any sign of weakness in the face of such great evil.

"Are you suffering already, Leonardo?" she laughed, her gaze searing back into his eyes, nearly as blinding as the light. "Twenty hours of capture and you have already had enough? I though you stronger than this."

"My brother is dying. He was sick before you took him, and now he's going to die because of you, you heartless bitch!"

Karai took a step backward, blinking in surprise with her mouth slightly agape. Silence hung there for a moment, a pause of shock and disbelief until her brilliant green eyes narrowed, her mouth turned into a hard little frown, displeasure written all over her face. But still, Leonardo refused to stand down.

"Guards!" she cried "seize him!"

And before he even knew it, the three hulking angels of light were birthed demons into the darkness, grabbing hold of Leo with bone-crushing force. But still, his eyes only narrowed as he stood, his fierce, cold glare burning holes into her eyes.

She was furious. He could feel it in her aura as she approached, her fingers flexing instinctively, blood lust in her eyes.

She drew near, let her hot breath linger on his skin as she whispered.

"I wish I could kill you now" she seethed, so quiet now Leo had to strain his ears to listen. "I wish I could peel the skin away from your flesh and wear your blood like a savage, string your entrails from the rafters and gouge out your eyes. But what good would it do without your brothers? I cannot reclaim my father's honor unless your entire clan can watch helpless as their leader is slaughtered at their feet. Only when I find the remaining two will I end your suffering one last time."

Taking a step back, she motioned to the guards.

"Strip him."

Leonardo stood stiff and strong, never losing his cold, fixed glare into Karai's seething eyes as he felt the guards tugging at the knot in his bandana, undoing the straps on his knee pads, elbow pads, leaving only his belt tied around his waist when she finally motioned for them to stop.

"Do not forget the other" she said coldly, motioning to the corner where Raphael still lay shivering on the floor, knocked out cold and wheezing for his breath.

As they departed, Karai stepped closer.

She was inches away from him now. As she stared hard into his eyes, he could feel her breath chill upon his skin. He flinched when he felt her fingers touching the knot on his belt, her body pressed against his as she untied the knot with a hungry force.

Never did their glares dare to peel away. Never did they dare to falter. Leonardo's heart fluttered in his chest as the knot fell away and she let her fingers linger there, a wicked smile on her face when she noticed the cold sweat on his brow, standing naked and maskless before her.

"You know nothing of suffering, Leonardo" she hissed like the demon she was, making every muscle explode with electricity as his heart pounded in his ears. "Until I find the others, you will know its meaning well."

It was then that she stepped away and Leo saw her pull back for the strike. He didn't even try to avoid it, just stood, still as stone, until she dole her striking blow. His eyes grew wide when she hit him, perplexed by the simple, primal rage behind it. She had clawed his face with her finger nails, leaving a long, hot trail of blood from his cheek to the flesh on his neck. He could feel the fragile tears of blood slowly weeping from the delicate wounds, trails of hate branding him with scars for reminders, the mark of the devil herself.

Satisfied, she smirked and called off her guards, now gripping the gear of both brothers in their greedy hands. Leo watched as she turned and left for her world of light beyond the shadows, but caught his breath to stop her.

"Karai, wait!"

Without turning, she stopped frozen in the doorway, her figure half shrouded in the blinding, fiery light.

"All I'm asking of you now is for something to brace his leg. Please, can't you spare me that much?"

Her shoulders tensed as she sucked in an offended breath and turned, throwing that familiar trademark glare in his direction. Leonardo had become accustomed to it by now.

"You dare to ask me to have mercy on your brother?" she fumed. "You dare to even expect that much from me. I show no mercy to my enemies. And you, Leonardo, are my most hated enemy of all. I will not ask you where your brothers are not only because I know you will not tell me, but because I hope Raphael will die slowly before your eyes. I will not spare him his suffering until each member of your clan is found and brought to me. They will not die until I can make a spectacle of you. Perhaps your brother will live long enough to gain mercy from my blade, perhaps he will rot there beside you as my ninja hunt. And only for that reason do I pray the hunt goes on for many nights. Only then will you know the true meaning of suffering."

He couldn't move, couldn't breathe. At that moment as Karai was swallowed up by shadow and the dark ravaged him once more, he could only tremble like a lost and broken child. Without moving, without blinking, surrounded again by the shifting colors of shadows all around, he sank to his knees under the despair of his greatest failure.

And then, for the first time in a long time, he wept his hidden tears until they bled him dry.


	10. Chapter 10:Copper Blood and Fever Dreams

_Wow this chapter took forever... and its way too long to boot, but I hope it makes up for the wait _

_Thanks to Ming for reading this over and giving me some awesome feedback! _

_Enjoy!_

* * *

Chapter 10: Copper Blood and Fever Dreams

Finally, it had been enough. Finally, the world had cut deep him enough for his soul to bleed right out of him, leaving him dead and desiccated in the midnight dark, grappling fruitlessly with the reasons why.

But slowly, as Leonardo tried to blink open his swollen eyes and see into the dark that made no difference, his fingers traced along cracked concrete, cracks that in his eternal black-soaked blindness, he could never hope to see. But he could feel the damage all too well, like a silent, desperate plea.

He was beginning to find his reasons.

He shut his eyes again and breathed, tried to let his shoulders fall and banish the flooding darkness from his head, find peace, collection, the inner balance that he cherished so well and hungered for so desperately. But all these things never came to him now, and his tired muscles quaked in fear.

Because things such as peace are afraid of the dark. Things such as reason, answers, permanence, hope did not exist.

The world had no reason. It had no life, no concept of honor, no soul. The world he had once held on to so stubbornly, had willed himself to see through the clouded eyes of innocence… it had withered and died within him years ago.

But still he traced along those cracks painfully slow, relishing the haunting twists like reliving every intangible nightmare dream of his cursed life, just staring empty into the darkness because he had not a tear left to shed.

All those years of hiding them- he had finally let them go.

They had left him so willingly, so eager to cut him deep and cause him pain, to betray everything he held so tightly within himself and birth it to the ugly world. Because his soul was bleeding; hemorrhaged out of him like arterial blood, leaving him echoing and hollow in cavernous walls as if every bit of passion he had ever possessed had leaked right out of him, like his very spark of life had been so hungrily leeched away.

Now, he was deaf, numb, unseeing and unwanted, forgotten, haunted by the ghost of his brother the blackness had not yet taken. The world around him now consisted of endless days and nights of blindness and the dark brought to poisoned, bloodshot eyes.

He was weak- so weak and so helpless upon his knees on the unforgiving concrete floor, feeling its harsh bite into his flesh, the warm sting of her mark upon his cheek, fighting with his own lungs for each struggling life-given breath.

He bit his tongue to fight back the humorless laugh that crept up his throat- he always did try to fight his brother's battles.

He screwed his eyes shut against his bitter revelation as if it mattered in the cloak of absolute dark, still tracing those sickening lines like the irreparable cracks in broken bones and heartstrings, listening to his breath combine with Raphael's teeth chattering and quivering exhales in rocking waves of his imagined cold.

He bowed his head made so heavy by the shame that weighed upon him, the weight of his own failure pressing heavy down upon his shoulders. It was like the world was ending all around him, its burden growing more unbearable as if to crush him down and kill him slowly- ever so slowly squeezing the life right out of him. It was like the dawning of the apocalypse and the world was burning to the ground. He could feel its kiss charring his bones as he sat, locked away under this cloak of sickly, hungry dark and hollowed eyes, only watching and waiting for the end to claim him too.

He blinked away the creeping hunger pains, that feral gnawing in his gut and was hit by a vision of the past, the future, another life itself. He was staring into a velvet field of one thousand blinking stars, blinded by the light of every bit of dying purity they held. He was staring into the headlights of an oncoming train, watching his world burn around him, extending his arms like a prayer, like beckoning a coming blessing, a miracle from heaven as he waited for the hungry hands of death to claim him and show his soul redemption.

There was nothing he could do, no brilliant plan to illuminate the darkness. In the shadows, in the dark, even in his own imagination, he couldn't see the colors anymore.

He blinked again and tried to clear his foggy mind, tried to trace his eyes through the black in search of nothing because the blinding light still burned like hellfire behind his retinas, an image of things yet to come still glowing horrible every time he closed his eyes.

But there was nothing left to see; only walls, damp, stark, and bleak as the future that was sure to come. No color in the shadows, no ghosts, no shapes, no trace of hope left in those cracks to give him comfort. Only black and ugly things existed now- hollow, cold, and eyeless- so startlingly terrible. He almost wished the dark things would just take him now, show him some last shred of bitter mercy, open wide their jaws and finally swallow him whole. It was his only dying wish that his life could be exchanged for the lives of his brothers and he could die in peace knowing he had somehow made a difference.

But life just didn't work that way, and nothing ever made a difference.

In the dark, the flaws began to finally show, and he could see the cracks as his own delusions fell away, exposing something terrible. And in his mind's eye as the pieces fell away, Leo knew with a steady gaze and whispers in his heart that he was seeing the broken world.

This was the world Raphael had come to know. It was the only world he had ever seen.

It had been so long since he even remembered being innocent. All those fleeting memories, locked away behind the misty haze of his imagination, none of it seemed to ever have been true. It was as if in that great yawning void, there was nothing left but a shell of who he once had been, as if the soul inside had one day decided to die and turn to dust within, left to rot and fester in side of him until its great release.

Those days within the hopeless dark, his sanity scattered out upon the wind.

Blind eyes cast to the shadows, he never looked away. He just couldn't tear them from those blaring black truth headlights of the oncoming train.

In the dawn of his greatest failure creeping past dark horizons, everything about the world, about his past, about anything he could have ever even tried to remember seemed devoid of light. So he sat, head hung low in shame and mourning, still running those same two trembling fingers down those ever winding cracks, loosing his grip to release the clinging fragments of his tattered soul and imagined reality to be consumed there by the hungry shadows and lost to him forever more.

He hated feeling hopeless. He hated sitting there, naked and exposed and doing nothing to stop the world from ending all around him. He just couldn't sit there and let her take him, let her take them all down to the gates of hell as a part of her sick and twisted plot for her father's undeserved revenge.

He breathed deeply and let his shoulders fall, dried his eyes quickly on his forearm and dared himself to stand on weakened knees.

He swayed but would not waver, braced himself with one palm pressed against the damp concrete. He refused to let the darkness claim him now, not when he still had so many reasons left to stay. He had to make a plan. He had to find some hope in that awful, putrid world of broken souls.

Twenty hours. Don and Mike must have noticed they were gone by now. It was only a matter of time before Karai would find them too, especially if they had left the Lair to look.

He almost wished that they hadn't.

_-- _

Something wasn't right… something… about this place was too damn dark, and way too fucking cold to be anything good. It was like the days had blended together into one long, eternal night, and its hungry eyes would never seem to leave him alone.

Sometimes, he would wake; feel the cool concrete pressing hard against his cheek. He'd shiver, watch the colors swim and blend together the different shades of black, combine and become whole again.

Sometimes, he could have sworn the night had eyes, and in that watching dark… he would search for any fleeting sign.

And his heart would leap within his chest when he would find nothing.

Sometimes… he would be there like a wraith in the belly of the darkest corners of hell, leaning there against the dripping wall, defeated.

The air smelled like death those days…

…or hours….

…or years.

He couldn't even remember time in that forever stretching blackness as his consciousness faded in and out between the worlds of living and the dead. The fragile edges of reality blurred together too much to tell.

All he knew was that something wasn't right. Whether it was the world, the dark, something crawling deep inside of him, he didn't know. But the room smelt like blood and death and grief, mourning, failure, tears, a funeral, hell… and he was having fever dreams.

Like snapshots of reality, black and white photographs of things forgotten and memories reborn.

_Summer morning's cool underground as the sun shone through the sewer grates, he remembered. Children, all wide-eyed and innocence chasing shadows through the filtered light, the dancing golden beams of sky that danced alive with specks of dust like hazy floating dreams._

_Three smiling, three happy, three innocent and free. But one lagging behind the rest like a shadow until his padding feet came to a trot, the sound of splashing sewer water finding a new and steady rhythm as his footsteps slowed and halted and the three faded away. _

_A sad, stubborn frown tugged at the corners of his lips as he watched in silent envy as the others ran ahead, leaving him behind with only their mindless, innocent laughter ringing down the sewer caverns. He froze and watched them fade into the winding roads and twisting avenues of their narrow world._

_The laughter faded and he was alone, listening to the run off trickle down from the street above, that eerie echoing drip that sent satisfying shivers down his spine. A small smile tugged at his lips in the half-light as watched the sunbeams dance upon the walls like golden swimming freckles glittering on the grey carved stone._

_He liked the quiet. He liked being alone. Alone he didn't have to worry about what to say, about what they'd make fun of him for and what they wouldn't, about looking tough or acting cool or strange or crazy or anything other than just Raphael._

_He was trying hard to change it, but it was really hard trying to be someone you weren't._

_Kicking at the filthy sewer water sloshing around his ankles, he frowned thoughtfully. They used to be the same, all of them, all the same. Donny knew things, Mikey was loud and funny, Leo was always trying to be first in line. Raphie- he had always been, well, Raphie. He was fine being serious, fine not knowing things he thought didn't matter, and sometimes, he didn't even care that much about being first._

_He didn't know where he fit into things now, but he knew that once, they had been the same._

_That is, until a month ago when everything changed- when Master Splinter bought that crazy TV._

_It was the first time any of them had ever seen a human so close up, and all four of them had watched in silent, misty-eyed awe for hours and days on end until the novelty wore off. Or it did, at least, for Raphie._

_Donny and Leo and Mikey could still sit there and gawk at it for hours like it was the best thing ever put on planet earth until Master Splinter told them to go outside and play. They didn't even care about what they watched- cartoons, movies, soaps, news, infomercials, everything was amazing. But Raphie didn't like it so much._

_The humans on TV were boring. All they did was fake. Fake teeth, fake hair, big, clean fake houses with fake smiles on their faces. Even fake laughter in the background of sitcoms that could never happen in real life, even when none of it was really ever funny. On that stupid TV, life was filled with rich people with houses and money and cars. Spoiled kids with toys and a warm place to go in the winter and food three times in the same day. Every day._

_But most of all- they were human._

_That wasn't the world. All of it was fake. All of it was lies. The world Raphie saw through sewer grates, the life he lived every day below them wasn't like that starched-white stuff he saw on television. In the real world, there were ugly people without rows and rows of snow white teeth and hair that didn't move when people turned their heads. In the real world, people were poor like his family with no food most nights, having Master Splinter pretend he didn't steal their dinner because that was supposed to be wrong. No money for toys. He and his brothers really didn't have any save for what their sensei found for them in the junkyards or dumpsters or wherever else he found these things. They didn't even have heat in the winter. They couldn't even come out from underground because Sensei said that if they were seen, people wouldn't understand them. _

_To Raphael, that translated into if they were seen, people would kill them._

_That was the world he knew. That was the world that was real, and he just couldn't understand why his brothers were so in love with staring at that little screen and acting like the people they saw._

_It was like overnight they all had changed. Mike was getting all these crazy jokes from cartoons that Donny and Leo found hilarious. Raphie didn't get them._

_Donny would sit for hours and watch things that nobody understood and soak it all in like a sponge, prattling things off for days on end like he had memorized the whole thing. He could follow Master Splinter around rattling off facts about giant squids or the fall of Rome, the rings of Saturn or haunted Irish castles, the old rat beaming all the while._

_Sensei would laugh at Mikey's jokes too, but Raphie still just didn't get them, and even if he did, he'd be too embarrassed to laugh because he just didn't feel like he was a part of it, like it wasn't even his place to be laughing._

_Around then Leo got his katana. He wasn't allowed to take them out of the dojo, but he would spend hours showing them off during practice, talking about how cool they were, how much better they were than the practice swords and bo they all were learning to use._

_Donny and Mikey thought he was the coolest thing on earth, and Splinter smiled while he practiced, gave him private lessons whenever he wanted. Raphie, he just looked in from the sidelines, feeling a little pang of jealously every time his brothers got that look from Sensei, that look that he himself never felt he got. Ever._

_Because they all had changed, and he never did._

_His whole life had become one giant battle to be like humans, to be cool, and he was failing miserably._

_Instead of chasing after his brothers' splashes and eerie laughter trailing further down the tunnel, he veered left and found a drier route where he could hear the rumble of cars, the sound of voices over head._

_That's where the humans were. Maybe it was time to see what was so special about them._

_He found the little sliver of light pouring down from a rain gutter where the sound of car horns, shouts, exhaust fumes, footsteps, voices echoed down to the sewer below. With a devious little smile, Raphie's heart leapt up when he heard the conversation so close to where he stood._

_In the space between the road and the sidewalk where the runoff grate sat, he could see two pairs of human legs dangling from where their owners sat upon the curb eating ice cream in the midday heat. Two boys, maybe five years older than he, maybe thirteen, sat watching traffic and licking the sticky driblets that trailed down their dark fingers._

_Raphael's smile grew wider when he heard them talk, when he saw their dark bare legs with heels of tattered sneakers planted on the pavement. Now this- this was real._

"_I dunno. Maybe he's gotta job 'r somethin'.'"_

"_Huh, yeah" the other snorted "'an im tha king a France. Yanno he's gotta be bangin' with tha gangs now. Sergio's been tryin' ta join tha Dragons too. I bet that's where he got all tha money."_

"_Ya think he's robbin' places?" the other gasped in awe._

"_Prob'ly" his friend grunted matter-of-factly. "Tha fucker's gunna have a juvie record before he even gets ta high school."_

"_Sergio does."_

_Intent on listening, Raphael's mind still wandered to a spider crawling up the wall. He smiled as he watched it creep, the size of his flat palm. He snatched it from the wall and grinned._

"_Yeah, so does Trey. 'm surprised us two ain't got one yet."_

_The other kid snorted as Raphael, never losing his grin, prodded the spider in his hand, bringing it close to his bright eyes with a grin._

"_That's cause none a us 've ever got caught."_

_The two faceless kids were laughing now as Raphael grinned and took hold of his spider. Slowly, he plucked the legs off and watched them twitch mindlessly in his other palm. He knew if he could hear it scream, it would be screeching horridly._

_He liked those accents. He liked those kids. Kids like those were tough. They sounded tough, talked tough. He was sure nobody ever picked on them. They were cool._

_Watching the maimed spider twitch legless in his hand, its dismembered appendages in the other, he giggled for the first time in a long time._

_If he couldn't be smart, couldn't be funny, couldn't practice on the katana, couldn't be perfect, he could at least be real. He could at least do this._

_He looked up cautiously into the grate and saw the legs were gone, glanced down the drainage tunnel and saw no shadows on the wall._

_His smile grew wider as he watched the spider struggle and whispered under his breath._

"_Uh, yeah" he said slowly, testing the sound on his tongue. It felt good. He gave himself a satisfied little smile. "An' I'm the king a France." _

_That one made him giggle. He didn't get the joke, but the tone made him flutter all electric inside. He liked it. A lot._

"_I dunno. Maybe he's… got… a new job… 'r somethin' ." He rambled, his voice growing stronger even as he stumbled to make the words sound right._

_He poked the now still body of the spider, a new spark of concentration alight in his eyes. It rolled over in his palm as he spoke again, even louder this time, the accent stronger than ever before._

"_Prob'ly. Tha fucker's gunna have a juvie record…"_

_His eyes grew wide in realization as he snapped his mouth shut and snatched his palm around the mutilated spider, hiding it quickly behind his back._

_Mikey was standing wide-eyed and slack jawed in the opening of Raphie's little tunnel that let out to the main line._

"_Leeeeeeeeeeeeeeeo!" he called over his shoulder in a sing-song voice. Raphael narrowed his eyes. "Raphie said a bad word!"_

_Two twin splashing footsteps grew louder before Leo and Donny appeared behind Mikey in the opening._

"_What did he say?" asked Donny, eyes ablaze with curiosity._

"_A bad word" Mikey gasped, squirming "the one we heard on the news the one time they forgot to beep it out" he smiled sheepishly at Leo, shrugging. "And he was talking funny."_

"_Like what?" Leo chimed in, his own eyes growing wider as he peered into the darkened tunnel where Raphael was cowering, a guilty expression on his face with his hands clamped firmly behind his back._

"_Like the traffic guy on the breakfast time news."_

"_That's how a lot of humans talk in New York City, Mikey. It's a New York accent. Bronx, probably" Donny added. The brothers were starting to get used to the walking, talking encyclopedia that was Donatello, each nodding thoughtfully._

"_That's weird" Mikey chimed "you're weird, Raphie. Why can't you be normal?"_

_The question made Raphie's face grow hot with embarrassment. Nervously, he had backed into the wall, his hands still behind his back, but was for some reason, unable to let the dead spider go. He was focusing too hard on what to do, what to say. He had absolutely no idea._

_Simply, he shrugged, walking foreword as he tried to push past his wall of curious brothers and run home before the real teasing began._

_But Leo had shifted front of him, that focused look in his eyes that told his younger brother there was no way he was making it through any time soon._

"_What are you hiding?" he asked simply, a spark of smug curiosity plastered across his young face._

"_N-Nothing" he said quickly. He hated it when he stuttered, bringing on a whole wave of embarrassment._

"_What? What? We can't hear you, Raphie!" Michelangelo hooted with his hand perched dramatically behind his 'ear.' "You're stuttering! You don't make any sense!"_

"_You sound like a baby when you stutter" Leo reprimanded smugly with his arms crossed over his plastron, grinning a wry, crooked smile as his younger brother shouldered past him. Leonardo reached out and grabbed Raphie's arm, pulling him around and prying his little fist open in one deft movement. _

_When he saw the mutilated spider's body, he just froze, hand still clamped around his brother's wrist as he looked into his eyes._

_Raphie could see the quick twitch of his lips as he fought back a curious smile, an odd look of fascination in his eyes, but then he let it fall into a look of pure disgust._

"_What is that?"_

"_S-S-Spider" he said shakily, tears welling in his eyes as he revealed Leo the contents of his other palm: eight twitching whisker-thin legs._

_Maybe not a spider anymore._

_Leo took a step back, eye wide as he let Raphie's wrist go. But still, it hovered there, frozen and exposed. "What did you do to it?" he exclaimed as Mike and Donny rushed over to see._

"_That's so gross!" Mikey whined with his hand clamped over his mouth._

"_Why would you do that, Raphie?" Donny gasped, looking his brother woefully in the eye as if his brother had just dismembered his closest friend. "What's wrong with you? He didn't do anything to you!"_

"_He's crazy! I knew it!" Michelangelo exclaimed, hiding behind Leonardo, pretending he was scared._

_Finally, Raphael let his little fists uncoil, releasing the dismembered spider into the pooling sewer water at his feet as his fiery brown eyes met his oldest brother's, stubborn determination, defiance, hurt, and hidden wounds behind the brimming tears. His voice was miserably shaky when he spoke._

"_Y-you usta be my friend, Leo" he whispered weakly, a heart-breaking sob. But immediately, he bit back the tears and pressed his lips together till they paled. _

_He knew those boys on the surface wouldn't cry like that, and he bet their brothers never made fun of them either. No, they wouldn't cry, they'd just get mad, and so would he._

_Leonardo's eyes were still round and wide with shock as they stared, two pairs of brown eyes identical at first, but now one bright and filled with flecks of amber gold and wonder, the other dull, dark, and made opaque so early in his few young years._

_When Raphie breathed, he shuddered at the pressure building in his chest like a little corked bottle ready to explode. He could already feel the unshed tears turning sour in his stomach as he slowly lost the battle to forbid them to fall. But before he could give in, he managed to push past his brothers and run as fast as his little legs could go, far away from their echoing jeers._

_But a pang of bottled anger suddenly busted inside him like hot ammunition, tearing him to shreds. He halted in his tracks before he could get too far, spun on his heels and faced their stupid taunts, two tight little fists clenched tightly at his sides._

"_I… I AIN'T crazy!" he screamed as low as his little voice could manage._

_There was a pause where all three of his brothers just stopped in their tracks, wide-eyed and stunned. Even Mikey was rendered speechless._

_That is, until Donny stifled a snigger then broke the painful silence. _

"_That's 'AM NOT' crazy! Bad language doesn't make you sound tough, Raphie!"_

_Now all three of them were laughing again and Raphie had to turn and run, no longer able to hold back the maddening tears that streamed down his cheeks the whole way home._

_But before he could escape them, before he could grow deaf to their lethal poison-barbed words,he could hear Mikey calling after him, laughing all the while "Run, Forest, run! See, he IS crazy!"_

_Laughter chasing him through sewer pipes, hot tears sliding down his face, a spider floating dead in stagnant water._

Maybe he is crazy.

His eyes fluttered against the pull of sleep and dragged him back to stark reality, his brain begging him to end the pounding, the burning ache in his lungs as he struggled for breath. He could hear the horrid wheeze echo against the hollow walls. Beads of cold sweat dribbled down his cheek as his eyes searched wildly in the dark, still bombarded with the frantic bursts of electric adrenaline sparked through his bloodstream by the echoes of his twisting nightmares.

But the pain shook the haunting echo from his head as he bit his tongue and tried not to moan aloud in agony and disdain.

He almost liked the fever dreams better, already starting to miss the painless fog of his harshest living memories after his fall back to stark reality and all the pain he had forgotten.

But that shape, his brother, that terrible wraith behind the darkness crushed down by the hellhounds in the wake of their defeat. Even in the swaying shadows of his spinning fevered world, he couldn't peel his eyes away no matter how hard tortured sleep would pull.

The great Leonardo with his back against the wall looking blank, defeated, dead.

He could barely believe his eyes as thick, pounding dread settled miserably in his stomach.

Those flickering moments lived on within his dreams well beyond the fleeting moments of his clouded consciousness- his cool touch in the darkness, the imagined sound of silent tears, the sound of metal grating against stone and light, the scent of drying blood.

They huddled close together in those nights- shared their nightmares and their sorrows side-by-side like a disease, touching, but only barely- never daring to hold but simply be like all the past had been forgiven staring so close into the hungry eyes of death.

Leonardo's shoulder was pressed against his plastron, and his head rested by the crook of his neck. But Raphael knew he had been sleeping- for the first time in ages, Leo was finally sleeping.

He cracked his heavy eyelids open and watched the darkness swim, raising up one shaking hand to wipe the rivulets of sweat pouring down his brow- only to find himself stripped and maskless, a realization that dared to fill him with silent, coursing rage. He coughed violently and shivered instead; surprised he couldn't see his breath in the painful cold.

He couldn't comprehend the world around him and chase away the fog like ghosts within his mind. But he knew this wasn't good. Something disturbing in the air told him things were more than bad.

He winced and grit his teeth as he shifted there upon the stone, trying to find some comfort where none ever could be found. He tried not to think about the throb that pounded madly upward from the break, the sick sensation of grating bone against bone, the tender, swollen heat and bruises there. Making a tight fist, he prayed for sleep to take him and half wished the dark would let him die.

And that was when it struck him- Leonardo hadn't moved. He could still feel his brother's shuddering breath against his plastron, but never did he stir. Raphael had to wrench his eyes open slowly and run them over his brother's silent figure just inches away on the concrete.

His voice was weak and foreign when he spoke, barely recognizable to his own ears. "L-Leo?"

He grit his teeth. Stuttering again like some idiot child in his nightmares.

But Leo didn't make an attempt to move. Instead he whispered, faintly like the murky sound of ghosts.

"Go back to sleep Raph." He swallowed thickly, painfully, tears within his voice but none swimming in his eyes. "You don't want to be here."

Unable to speak, Raphael reached out with trembling fingers, touched his brother's cool shoulder lightly, as if willing his voice to strengthen, to be his anchor into consciousness. Leo was supposed to be strong one, nothing like the strangled whispers that sailed through the imposed synthetic night of their cursed concrete prison.

But something on his fingers made his heart stop, made him pull away quicker than the haze of fever would have ever allowed. Something warm and sticky on his fingertips, growing cold in the eternal midnight air.

Immediately, he knew what it was.

"Leo" he breathed, rolling painfully onto his back as the pull of sleep grew stronger. At least his shell gave some protection from the concrete. "You're… bleedin.'"

"Don't move" Leonardo admonished, his voice taking hold a more familiar tone "your leg is never going to heal."

Raphael's eyes were heavy now like lead weighed down upon his eyelids but still, they grew wide in terror, shining black and wild. He traced his brother's solemn form, now sitting before him beneath the cloak of darkness.

"W… what did they do ta you?" he whispered faintly, his heart pounding in his ears despite the nearly primal urge to sleep.

Leonardo only stared back steadily, eyes solemn even in the night, even drenched in all that drying blood. He reached out to touch his brother lightly on the arm as his hooded eyes demanded sleep.

Despite the rotting fear, the terror, the cuts, his brother's living blood smeared on his fingertips and plastron like the bond that held them entwined together- their brotherhood made tangible, he finally gave into the heavy pull.

And the smell of warm and sickly copper became his lullaby dreams, bringing him closer every day upon the twisted current of his nightmares to the seducing beckon of eternal sleep.

It all had to be a dream.


	11. Chapter 11: Forest of the Dead

Chapter 11: Forest of the Dead

_Cut._

One word… so small and quick, even the sound of it uttered by a hopeless tongue could rip your insides to shreds. Ignore it, and it will strike you down, bleed you dry until it leaves you in stunned in that roaring, deafening silence of pulse, remembering only the sting of a razor blade cut born into the air.

As he mulled it over in his mind- its meaning, its life, its ironies, he felt the tight pull of what he could only feel was brown caked blood and the soar ache of slow healing flesh as he tried to shift his weight on the concrete. His legs had grown numb from the hours of cold.

_Cut._

She should have killed him, ended this pitiful existence once and for all. He had seen it in her eyes- she hungered feverishly to see him breathe his final breath. She yearned with the very fabric of her existence to see the light leave his eyes.

But she held back.

She didn't have them yet.

Leo clenched his jaw as his stomach growled painfully, tried to ignore it for now, but it was getting harder. Every time he pressed it from his mind, it would only come back tenfold.

It had been days since he had eaten- he knew it had been days because he had only been this hungry once before, like the hunger, like ravenous wolves, would claw him open and tear him to shreds. That kind of hunger- it played with your mind, toyed with the very fiber of your being until it unraveled like a string. It ate away at you slowly until like a flesh eating disease, so stricken with weakness you just had to let it go like a lead balloon, and watch it drift so dreamily by like sleepwalking, because you just couldn't hold it anymore.

His strength was waning now. He could feel it in his bones, the protest of his muscles. It had to have been days, and it was beginning to feel like the others would never come. He should have lost hope long ago.

It would have been easier that way.

Or maybe it would have been easier if she had just killed him. She had the knife and the need, but logic held her hand, breathed a sense of logic in her lungs.

She won't kill him until she found the others, and that was only a matter of time.

He felt tired, so heavy and so tired. He felt the concrete making his back ache, the darkness making his heart ache, but he was hollow now.

Thank god, he was hollow now.

Raph was talking in his sleep again, cold sweat dribbling down the hidden muscles of his tight-drawn face beneath the flesh.

He still mumbled haunting, incoherent things into the dark- eerie sounds, broken only by the shivers, to open his murky, fevered eyes that shone like gemstones in the night, in search for something real.

But Leo was wounded too. He barely felt real anymore. He tore his gaze away like reopening the wound. He just couldn't stare back, because reflected there in the glimmer of his brother's eyes, Leo saw his greatest failure. He saw only the past, the world as he had come to know it- uncaring, unforgiving, bleeding and raw.

There was nothing else that he could do.

He had failed so miserably. Even after all his training, all his endless striving for perfection, all the emotional healing he had done training with the Ancient One, the hours of mediation, days of reflection, there they were, back at square one, half dead and broken at the mercy of Karai.

All because of him.

Selfishly, he just wished she had killed him, because nothing he could ever do would make this right again.

If they didn't get out of there soon, Raph would die. A little longer, and he would be following closely behind. Then his family would be stricken and heart sick, mourning over the fact that they just couldn't get there in time.

And one of them, maybe all of them, would silently blame him for what he had done.

He had finally pushed Raphael too far, finally made him find that ledge and jump.

He might as well have pushed him.

But kids were cruel. Leo blamed a lot of the problem on his young self, that wide-eyed and critical child that never knew any better.

When they were young, Raph had been an easy target. One word would send him over the edge, bursting into tears or a fit of fury. One harsh whisper could give them all entertainment for hours on end.

And that was all it was- three kids, bored and trapped under the surface with nothing but sewage and the stench of rotting garbage for a playground. They had quickly found that Raphael provided more fun.

It had been like a game… how quick could someone make Raph cry.

He had been born odd… reclusive, opaque, emotional, impulsive. It had been so easy to set him off, so easy to find things wrong to instigate.

That painful stutter of his that would magnify when you hit a nerve. They would use it as a gauge for their torment. As soon as it grew to almost incoherent, they had done their job.

And then there was the eerie silence when he was too shy, or too stubborn to let it show, and the odd little things he had picked up being left alone for so long.

He used to pluck the legs off of spiders- he remembered that much.

_What did you do…_

_Why do you have to be so weird…_

_What is wrong with you…_

He mulled the words like echoes from his past, tumbling over and over in his mind, its edges cutting into the flesh of his tongue, piercing a hole through his cheek as he convinced himself he had to be going crazy. The silence gave him too much time to think of these things.

But finding them, hearing them echo in his imagination like the silver mist of ten thousand forgotten ghosts, it made him think…

Maybe Raph really did have a problem, maybe he couldn't help the things his mind was telling him. When the sad look in his eyes, the disheartened silence, the tears had all turned to fury… maybe that was when he had failed his brother the most.

Maybe that game, that terrible, tormenting game that only the cruel mind of bored children could come up with was what made Raph the emotional train wreck he was today.

Around ten he had completely changed. He was talking different, picking up things he heard from the streets- and they had made fun of him for a while… but when that stutter disappeared over the years, and Raph's anger became almost dangerous… they had stopped.

Somehow, he had taught himself not to shed a tear. Somehow, he had taught himself to get mad instead of breaking down.

It was scary, almost, how he would bury his fist into a wall and make it bleed, overturn a chair, smash a plate against the wall, lash out, strike with such unbridled fury. They stopped. The game was done.

And this… this was the final outcome.

Cold sweat formed a chilling sheen on his brow as he remembered, panicked, realized… a sickly stone sunk in his gut as his heart sunk down there with it.

Images of that night… the night before the end… the morning, rather, when Raph came home with his knuckles bleeding, and overturned the kitchen table.

They had driven him to this. _He _had slowly, after years and years of the game, after years and years of watching his brother's downfall and never even lifting a finger to catch him… he had driven his brother crazy.

Never had he dared, not even as a kid, to show how alike they really were.

Because sometimes… he plucked the legs off spiders too. Sometimes… he just couldn't keep those thoughts from pooling in his head.

Maybe he was crazy too. The hunger was making him crazy. The darkness was making him crazy. The blood loss was making him crazy.

He narrowed his eyes into a poisonous glare, those bitter images of her.

Karai- she was making him crazy.

It had been a while before he really had lost his grasp, had forgotten everything but the dark and holding Raphael like a weeping mother clutched her stillborn child and mourned its body into dust. He didn't cry any more though, couldn't even feel them coming, because he was hollow now.

Even when the door opened, even when she changed her mind, even when the fires of heaven grew impatient and angels from hell came to claim him to the light, they found only silence.

And he was hollow still.

* * *

"You're going to be ok" he murmured, that meaningless mantra, false hope on lying tongues of sinners as he busied himself with wiping the sweat from his brother's bare brow. He looked so lost, so helpless and alone without its angry slash of red, as if he could even see it now through the cloak of awesome dark.

There was little else he could do but remember, tend to him like a mewing babe, an ignorant child, the weak, the dying, the dead. There was little else he could do in the gaping, hollow darkness but learn and deal and cope.

And slowly come to terms with blindness and death.

In his mind, death was a crow, and the dusty flutter of raven's wings would fill his ears from time to time, whenever he dared to close his eyes and dream. His one hand always touched, always reached out to know he was there, Raphael, his greatest failure, chaining them both to this false new reality, to the dark. And then, it was the first thing he found comfort in when the raven told its tale, spun its silk like spider's webs, whispered songs of death like children's rhymes.

He'd wake up screaming.

That raven, it had eyes that watched from nightmares, eyes that peered from the dark. Always watching, always waiting for its meal.

It reminded him of the forest in Japan, when the garden pools couldn't hold his attention. He would wander down the rocky mountainside and find the twisted wood of yew and hawthorn branches, willows by the river's edge.

The forest of the dead, the villagers called it, filled with the restless ghosts of ancestors and the shadows of tengu. They shunned it, called it a cursed place from the corners of their mouths, cast it sideways, blackened glances as they pulled their coats closer to their flesh and hurried on their way.

On the quiet days, he became the tengu and wandered in the shadows for a time like a wraith through twisted bamboo forests.

He had gone to the Ancient One and asked his permission to camp there for a time, to gather his thoughts in that eerie quiet. To find his peace.

There, he had waited two long months beneath the eyes of ghosts and raven's calls, waiting for his answers to find him.

There, he had known, for the first time in since his childhood, what it was like to starve, to survive.

It had been like a dream and a nightmare, bliss and eerie quiet coming to haunt in those days he sensed the villager's cursed ghosts following in his footsteps. He never dared to look back.

The hunger and the quiet had played tricks on his mind then too, healing the scars and carving new ones under the silver filtering moonlight, the cold blindness of the sky.

Resting his head against the harsh cold of the stone wall, that stiff ache from endless hours of motionless, rotting, waiting for something to deal the final blow, for Karai to finally gather up the guts to strike him down and end this madness, he thought. He thought of memories gone and past, those long cold nights alone in the woods, haunted by the demons he could conjure in his mind. It was amazing how similar this suffering was now, like a treeless forest in the void, the swallowing blackness with so many eyes.

But what sort of healing could this darkness do?

The mossy forest floor was much more forgiving than concrete. And slowly, he was beginning to doubt exactly how much of the world did forgive.

He had made so many mistakes. Maybe now, this was simply a matter of karma, a matter of fate, a punishment for a lifetime of failure, a new life of colorless, tangible dark.

But he was learning to feel the colors, to trace the hard lines of his brother's face as if he'd been stricken blind, feel the cold of fever sweat, his quaking muscles when he sat close and held him tight, so fiercely tight to stave away the dark, afraid that if he let his brother go, the demons would finally have their feast upon his broken soul.

And then, he would quickly find the edge, finally fade away.

Leo swallowed back the hard lump in his throat, choking him like lead, and tried to act like the darkness, these hopeless, poison thoughts, didn't faze him now. But still, he knew that if his brother died, he would be alone with only hellhounds for company, the tengu of the woods, the hungry, blackened eyes of ancient ghosts.

His sanity, his soul- they didn't stand a chance. This darkness didn't heal, it only cut, and only left him scarred.

Raphael wasn't doing well, not by a long stretch. The fever – it was lasting for days, and Leo knew full well it could be the end of him. It was high, too high for far too long. Every ticking minute, made indiscernible by the eternal dark, brought him closer to the edge of the knife's blade, closer to goodbye. But he was far from ready for goodbyes.

He wouldn't back down now. Not to her, not to anyone, but especially not to her.

The first night, or day, or second, or minute… twenty hours, that's what she had said and all that he had known… he had waited till his tears bled him dry and held onto his newfound hollowness until he willed himself to stand, willed himself to live and convinced himself that he could find a plan.

He had run his fingers down the walls for hours, pressed his palms against cool concrete and pushed, but found it unforgiving.

His forehead beaded with sweat as he pushed, pried his thick fingers into crevices, cracks, picked apart sharp stone searching for a weakness, waiting for a sign of freedom, but finding none.

A bolt of panic settled in.

His frantic search for a weakness turned to madness, clawing fruitlessly at concrete wall that would forever refuse to yield even to the sands of time. His heart had pounded in his ears and he glanced over to his brother, cloaked in a weakness he could not understand.

If this was to be his punishment, his fate, his demise for such inexcusable failure, why would Raphael be made to suffer because of him?

The sickly pang of it, the nauseous twist that shook him as it reached down into his gut, it nearly bowled him off his feet. It was because of his misjudgments, his stupid need for confrontation that made Raph agitated enough to leave, that had landed them both here in the first place. It wasn't even close to fair.

That only angered him more, sparked another flash of fierce determination in his soul.

Somehow, he had nearly forgotten that that was his brother… that was Raphael, and if he expected his brother to live another day, if he yearned for the sunlight as completely as he thought, if he ever even thought of seeing the light of day again, thirsted to be free in the wake of his redemption, back in the world he believed was true, he had no choice. He had to find a way.

He made an angry fist as sudden rage sprung through his veins, gorged his muscles into wound, wiry chords, and laid his fist into the wall, channeling it all into the impact- all his failures, all his inadequacies, his undying hate for her, every little ignorant thing he had let himself believe, everything he had been so gravely wrong about- he left it all embedded with his bleeding flesh buried in the concrete.

Ferally, he screamed, and it echoed off the walls, because he knew he was alone. And he had to let it go- just let that heavy poison crawl from his lungs, burning, coiling and thick into the cursed air that had spawned it. He laid his fist into the wall again, baring his teeth as the pain ripped into his shoulder, but never stopped. He couldn't stop. This was redemption.

He pulled his hand back, streams of crimson flowing down his rage-torn knuckles, the shards of failure buried in his flesh.

But still, he laid it in again and again, relishing the pain till it tore his soul to pieces, focusing on the release until it drained him and he could no more, until he was sure his knuckles had to be broken.

His fingers were stiff and permanently curled loosely, swollen still into that murderous, bleeding fist as he slid back down onto the concrete, holding his bleeding hand before him to study with blind eyes. He could feel the warmth of blood meeting air and caking on his skin. He waited for the pain to come.

There was no way out. He must have been at it for hours told by the sweep of exhaustion and strain of tired muscles that rushed over him. But it was hopeless. All of it, it had been for nothing. There was no weakness in the walls, no vents or cracks, not even a mark to hold a promise. All he could do now is sit, and wait.

What exactly he was waiting for- now that was pure mystery. Death or demise, salvation or redemption… that, only the fates could decide.

And then, he got his answer.

The light was blinding as the door swung open, seared his retinas that he cried out in surprise pain, instinctively planting his bloodied palm to his eyes, smearing his face in the odd cool wetness.

It was like heaven and hellfire all rolled into one. He didn't know if he should bask in its awesome glow or cower in its horror.

Then- a voice, cool and lifeless.

If it was heaven, it would have been his brothers finally come to save him. But this was hell, and this was Karai.

"What is this commotion?" she spat, cold and void but still, dripping lethal venom. She cringed in disgust when Leonardo stubbornly peeled his palm away from his eyes, baring to the light the smear of sickly brown upon his face, seeping from his knuckles.

"Is something the matter, Leonardo?" she bit dryly, a joke without a trace of humor. Leo could have seen the twist of her mouth into a crooked, sideways smile as she relished it, had he not been desperately trying to blink away his blindness.

The darkness had been all he'd known for what seemed like days. In the light, she looked like an angel, haloed in a fiery brilliance. But he knew she was far from angelic.

She was the devil's spawn.

Receiving no answer, she frowned. "Can you stand?" she asked briskly, crossing her arms over her chest, still cold and emotionless.

Again, he did not answer. Silence was his only weapon, and he had chosen to use it well.

Wordlessly, she motioned to two wraiths that faded in behind her. Within seconds, they had taken hold of him, heaving him shakily to his feet.

His rampage around the chamber had left him too weak and uncaring to fight back. He merely allowed them to take him to the light, leaving Raphael behind.

Once, she had told him she would kill him slowly as his brothers watched, and a heavy stone of dread sunk into the pit of his gut at the thought. Maybe they were here, maybe she had caught them like she promised. Maybe this second, this hour, this breath could be his last. Finally, he had met the edge of his demise.

As they led him down the dingy, age-worn corridors of what looked like an old abandoned wear house, he thought about exactly how much of this he deserved.

After all his mistakes, everything he had done to break his family and march them to their deaths, he believed he deserved every ounce of torture he was due for, and then some. But to have them watch… to leave them in some kind of selfish crusade at the fragile tip of her tanto blade, that was far too much.

He would have gladly given his life for the lives of any one of them. But making them suffer because of him… that was his reason to stay alive.

He couldn't die today. Not until he knew his brothers would be safe, after Karai was gone and dead.

Maybe it was her death bells tolling in his head now.

Either way… someone was sure to meet their end.

They had dragged him to some sort of chamber farther down the hall. It looked like it could have been an office long ago… long metal tables and wooden paneling. Maybe once it had been almost luxurious, left to rot and decay in its disuse.

They laid him down upon the table and strapped him down with crude strips of leather, worn buckles at the ends.

He wondered how many victims they had seen, how much suffering they had witnessed.

He didn't have the strength or heart to protest. Maybe if he hadn't been so hungry, so exhausted, so worn, maybe then he would have stood a chance. But he was, and he didn't even have the will to flinch.

Another part of him told him he deserved every bit of what she had in mind.

Only time would have to decide.

She was there. He tried to turn his head to see her from the corner of his eye, but she was out of his line of vision. Still, he could feel her standing there, eyes piercing daggers into his flesh…

How ironic, the sound of an unsheathed tanto blade ringing through the air. That was exactly what she had in mind.

"You don't have the patience I thought you had" Leo managed to croak bitterly as she came into his field of vision, glittering blade of her tanto clutched ominously in her hand. Her expression, poison.

"You know not the dishonor I can inflict upon you, Leonardo" she warned, placing the cool steel of the blade close to the flesh of his bound arm.

A wave of relief hit him when he saw her bitter expression. She didn't have them… that was why he was here.

"You'll never find them, Karai. We've been hiding from people like you since the day we were born. What makes you think you can expose us now?"

That small smile returned to her lips, but her hand remained steady on the hilt of her tanto. A devilish sparkle glittered in her eyes.

"I have found you once before, if you do not recall."

Leonardo bore his teeth and glared with every ounce of venomous hate and energy the dark had not yet taken from him. But still, he would not give her the satisfaction of struggling against his bonds, of lashing out with words. Instead, he sat in silence, letting the fire his glare break the silence for him.

The truth in her words cut him deep. It had been just months ago that he had come back to a demolished home, a scattered family, ruin.

She had done it once before, and by every ounce of hate and power his soul possessed, he promised she would never manage to do it again.

"You had your chance to die in dignity. It is no fault of mine you have refused." she said softly, almost a croon that left him shaken and puzzled. It was a question of honor again, dangled over his head by the fragile thread of a spider's web.

Yet that tone… it was almost… affection, despair, grief as she pressed the steal into his flesh.

But still, he did not flinch, did not let it show, that boiling tempest underneath. Once he may have felt that affection too, that sense of kinship he once found in her. But that had changed now, so much had changed.

He had no honor left to question, only failure and a shell of who he once had been, long before their nearly fatal journey to the stars, long before the scar, his pilgrimage, the teachings of the Ancient One.

He almost hoped that this time, she would just leave him dead. At least his remaining brothers would be saved…but there would be no hope for Raphael.

"If you want me dead so badly, then why don't you just kill me now?" he spat, voice gaining strength despite the raking hoarseness thirst and disuse had brought it.

She took the tanto away from his flesh, a thin streak of crimson in remembrance of where it had lain. In her eyes, something strange like cold heat danced behind the retinas.

"I cannot do that" she said softly, in that same odd, crooning tone. "Not yet. Not until your debt to my father's name has been paid."

Vacantly, her eyes searched the room, bathed in the harsh light of the naked bulb overhead, the cracks and mold on the walls, spider's webs collecting dust in the corners. Her fingers played with the leather wrap on the hilt of her weapon.

With a wicked glare, she quickly snapped her brown eyes back to his. "Besides" she almost laughed, if she was capable of that emotion "what use would killing you be to me if I have not yet found your brothers? Each of you must pay your debt for my father's exile and the defilement of his name!"

That strange heat in her eyes had returned as she brandished her tanto's blade in the harsh light.

"So I give you another decision to make" she said coldly, never taking her eyes away "and I urge you this time to choose wisely."

Pausing, Leonardo didn't give her the satisfaction of a reaction. He only sat there, bound and stiff against the cold metal table. He already knew what she would dare to ask of him.

"Tell me where your brothers are and I will make your death quick and clean" she said mechanically, fire ablaze behind her eyes none the less. "Refuse, and I will hunt them down like the animals they are. And I promise you, Leonardo… your death will be slow and painful, you will beg me for an end."

Still he remained silent.

Her expression flinched into an appalled look of fury, and then turned back to stone again within a second.

"It is your choice" she said plainly, "the dull blade or the sharp. Either way, you will be slain before their eyes."

When nothing but silence filled her ears, she was almost joyful. Her fingers twitched restlessly on the tuska of her tanto. Either way, she did not plan to leave this night empty-handed.

Tonight, she would test just how disciplined his silence truly was. Tonight, her blade would kiss his flesh.

The first cut was like bliss, as he let a small pained gasp hiss between his teeth and the cut let out the blood. The second, again on his arm, the muscles twitched and coiled beneath it. The third, fourth, fifth, he still fell silent, though tears of pain crawled slowly from the corners of his eyes.

The eigth, a cut across his shoulder, shallow yet so free to bleed as the steel traced it to the nape of his neck. He clenched his fists and stiffened, but even through the tears of pain, the ever-growing ocean of blood that pooled and went chill beneath him on the table, he never uttered a sound, never peeled his eyes from hers.

Determination, redemption, hopelessness… that was what filled his eyes now, burning hot beneath all that pain. It was the look of a man with nothing left to lose.

By the tenth cut, he had grown pale and beads of sweat now dotted his brow, but still, he refused to speak. She lowered her tanto and stared, hard and deep into those hopeless, determined eyes, and knew she could not break the broken.

Leonardo was loyal beyond the limits of life or death, beyond any pain she could ever deal him with a tanto's blade.

His eyes were glassy as they gazed wearily into hers, without a hint of life still left there to burn. In the dark, he had died… or maybe he had died long ago…

As she beckoned for her black-clothed ninja to take him away, weakness had claimed him as they lifted him limply from his bonds. She watched, with fire in her eyes, as her men carried him back to the dark, trailing drops of crimson life upon the old worn floor, the color now marring her tanto's blade.

His life was hers… redemption, it was hers. He had taken away everything she had ever known, and he would repay with every ounce of his blood, with every thread of his life.

And this, she vowed with the darkest corners of her soul…

Soon, she would watch the light leave his eyes as her tanto plunged and twisted, sliced open his tender, pulsing throat, disemboweled him alive before his brother's grief-stricken eyes. Only then will it have quenched its final, bloody thirst. Only then she would have her revenge.


	12. Chapter 12: The Crimson Tide

_This chapter is long. Like, the Willowfly-pantented, good god she's sick in the head kind of long. Aka, 17 pages of sheer madness. But do I write them any other way? _

_Thanks to my genius beta, Angelfeatherwriter, for helping me work out some major kinks in the plotline. Go read her fics because damn, she's good._

* * *

Chapter 12: The Crimson Tide

_In the dark, blackened blood congealed on concrete floors, sickening as it formed its bottomless pools._

_It grappled with the stone carved cracks and lapped at his ankles like a ravenous crimson tide, like an army of hungry wild dogs. _

_Dogs, roaring, ravenous, and snarling- tearing apart his flesh and muscle with white gnashing fangs. Long threads of saliva hung ominously from their gaping maws, their hollow eyes and demon's tongues flicking to taste the bloody air, to lap up the blood and gore that covered the floor, the walls, every inch of the hellish world around him. _

_Hunger…_

_Their demon's eyes spoke it._

_You cannot save them now…_

_The dogs leapt up and snapped their fangs, tearing huge chunks of flesh from his bones, ripping him apart limb from limb until there was nothing left but blood and gore and fear, until he was fear made incarnate, tangible and real, drowning in the endless seas._

_Donny… help us…_

_He gasped and choked like a mewing babe, his lungs bursting desperately for that breath of life's first air, but finding nothing. He reached out to that pleading voice, panic ablaze like wildfire. He had to reach out, he had to find them, he had to save them from this end._

…_you are the only one…_

_Clotting blood and bone fragments, the grey matter of brains sprayed across the carved stone walls, tattered pieces of muscle strewn upon the violent sea._

_The river ran to hell, and he was drowning in the ocean._

_This was the kind of dark that sucked away a person's soul._

_The hell hounds licked their chops. His brothers would be next._

_And then he saw them, huddled, fallen like two stricken soldiers, bloodstained against an old brick wall. Ravens perched on every side with hunger written in their pack of dogs was closing in._

_No!_

_He wanted to scream but the blood just filled his mouth, drown his lungs. He tried to swim, but he was slowly sinking to oblivion. _

_His brothers heard his voiceless call, they turned their hollow eyes to him and stared._

_Their eyes… they had no pupils. Only starched white holes gleamed like beacons from the shadows now. _

_The dark had stolen away their souls._

_Oh god oh god oh god oh god…_

_The dogs were closing in… one last charge, a flash of razor pearly teeth longing for the taste of flesh and…_

Donatello struggled to stifle the scream that was clawing up his throat. He fought to let it out in one long moan instead. He was afraid to open his eyes, afraid to move, afraid to breathe because something in the back of his mind told him that maybe it was real. Maybe all of it wasn't just some twisted nightmare and he'd wake up with something real to scream about.

But the minute he had seen the dogs, the minute they began to eat him alive, pulling off his flesh in long gory sheets, as soon as he heard his brothers' desperate screams, he had known it was a dream.

He'd been having them for the past two weeks, the different scenarios playing out in his head like some bad movie. Every night they'd find him, the very moment he lost the battle with his eyelids, they were upon him, feeding on his flesh like that pack of hungry dogs. But always, his brothers were waiting for him on the other side, broken and defeated in a new twisted rendition of hell.

He was slowly learning to live with the nightmares like a chronic disease, even if they were getting more violent as the days drew onward. He had to dare it, he had to step out and shake it off because even outside those bloody realms of hell, he had to save them.

The light in the lab was dim, cool and discolored as it poured from the monitor of his computer screen. Don blinked dazedly around the darkened room at the ghosts of street maps and sewer lines stared ominously back.

Sighing deeply, he gathered the crumpled map of Southern Manhattan's sewer systems and traced the gridlines with his eyes.

There had to be an error, there had to be a patch, some hidden, secret place that they had missed. But the search patterns traced in black marker told him no, they wouldn't find them here.

Still shaking away the last few threads of the nightmare, the howling of hellhounds in the back of his mind, Don sat back in his desk chair and studied all the walls, littered with maps and notes that told the same.

It was times like these he almost could convince himself his brothers were dead.

But that couldn't be true.

Leo and Raph- they were strong. They'd weathered something like this before and come out no worse for the wear over and over again. It was almost a joke that they would leave behind their two little brothers, the weakest fighters- the least, in Don's own opinion- to play the heroics.

Sure, he could make maps and plan search grids. He could draw these lines in black marker across the crumpled plans of sewer lines and wait for things to happen. He could measure out the probability, come up with endless scenarios, but still, without a trace, without even the smallest step in the right directions after days and days of searching, all of it meant nothing. He didn't want maps, he didn't give a damn about scenarios or the probabilities that were growing starker by the second.

He just wanted his brothers back.

But after two long weeks, he still nothing. Two weeks, and his only breakthroughs were all the places he wouldn't find them, running together like blackened spider's webs across the countless water stained maps.

But he was tired, so tired. His muscles ached a constant warm pull every time he dared to move, because he and Mike had run themselves ragged ever since the night their brothers didn't come back. They'd combed through every twist and sickly turn of the sewers, sewage turned to slush by the early December cold. They ran through those tunnels until the slush had made them numb, until their blood rand cold and sluggish, and they both stumbled their way back home- defeated.

When the night and cold allowed, they'd go topside, comb the streets and alleyways for any mark or sign. They'd run rooftops until their muscles pleaded for no more, until their hearts had seen enough failure to breathe an air of hopelessness into their lungs.

But every morning, hope would reignite. Every morning, Don would wander into the kitchen after another sleepless night and Mike would smile enough to break his heavy heart.

With Mike, it was never a matter of _if_, it was always going to be _when_. And that would be enough for Don to trudge back into the lab after breakfast and draw up a new flurry of hopeless possibilities and crumpled dog-eared maps, just another grid and endless sheets of meaningless probabilities.

But after two weeks, Don found himself hiding behind his marked maps and penciled-in equations just as much as Mike hid behind his optimism. Beneath it all, there was the settling, stone-carved truth.

Maybe they would never find them.

Maybe the _if _was more solid than he would let himself believe.

Maybe it was all just one big joke. It had to be.

And there was that clawing feeling in his stomach again, that gnawing burn that ran its way up his into chest and stung like acid in his throat when he'd worked himself up enough to feel it. He blinked blearily at the clock, surprised, but for only an instant, that he'd made it through the better part of the night.

Four AM was about all the sleep he was going to get, and now, he_ really_ needed an antacid. Or at least, something to distract him for a while. All those dead end maps were starting to make his lab unlivable.

So he heaved himself away from his computer chair and stretched greedily until his shoulders popped in mock relief.

He could already tell it was going to be a very long day.

When Don peeked his head out into the dark and empty Lair, he tried to shake away the heaviness of the eerie quiet that hung so thickly in the air. No soft snores pounded off the walls, no quiet sounds of the last vestiges of sleep he had grown unconsciously accustomed to.

If it were better, Leo would be just waking up, squeezing in a shower and some early morning meditation before the others woke and broke the hazy spell of morning.

On especially sleepless nights, Don would wake and listen to the shower run, listen to his brother moving silently around the kitchen, boiling water for their tea like it was just a prayer, another extension of his meditation.

Sometimes Don would follow those sounds, that prayer like a beacon in the dark into the dim lit kitchen, and groggily start the morning's first pot of coffee. It was times like those he knew his brother best, times like those when they could just sit and talk for hours on end with no distractions, until Mikey came wandering in search of cereal, or Raph somehow found his way to the kitchen table, still just barely awake enough to stand.

But early morning, when he had too much on his mind, Leo was there. That was their time to talk about the things that weighed them down, about projects gone unfinished and responsibility, about the deeper things that filled their dreams and nightmares, like love, if they could ever find it, or war, or death, or honor; or all the awful truths that defined their lives like the millions of jagged little scars that graced their carapaces. The mornings, before the sun itself was bold enough to rise, it was their time to speak the unspeakable, to lift the burdens carried upon sometimes unbearably heavy hearts and sore shoulders. It was mornings like those that made the weight a little lighter for a time, just a little easier to carry.

Oh god, he missed his brothers.

Stepping out of the dim lit lab into the dark, Don's eyes caught the filtering hints of the kitchen light pouring onto the floor. His heart made to do a little flutter, but stopped somewhere between hazy dreams and longing, between wakefulness and hope. He'd almost lost his grasp on reality.

There was no use in that.

But still, it drew him in like the sounds of his oldest brother making tea, though he knew he'd never find him there, not now. Two weeks, it's been. The longest two weeks of his life.

He stumbled into the kitchen, hand gripping the doorframe as his sleep-deprived eyes adjusted to the steady light, smiling half-heartedly at Michelangelo, sitting at the kitchen table, plowing his way through a brand new package of Oreos.

They had just gone to buy them yesterday, and half of them were already gone.

"Hey Don," Mikey grinned around a fresh mouthful of cookie.

"What're you doing up?" Don yawned, already subconsciously making his way to the coffee maker. He hadn't planned on starting the first pot, but the habit seemed to be ingrained into his brain matter.

"Eatin' Oreos, what does it look like I'm doing?" he smiled, cookie crumbs haloing his lips.

Sometimes Don didn't know if he wanted to strangle his brother for his optimism or get on his knees and worship him for it. This early in the morning, he was leaning more towards the strangling.

When the coffee started, Don frowned slightly, remembering the reason why he had ventured out in the first place. His stomach was still doing weird little burning twists inside of him, which were getting harder to ignore.

"It's just… early. That's all," Don said, holding back a cringe. He was almost certain he had stressed himself into an ulcer by now, so he swung open the fridge door and plucked out the unopened milk carton, wrenching off the cap and pouring out two glasses.

Mikey didn't miss a beat. His smile quickly vanished for a frown. "Your stomach hurting again, Don?"

"Oh, it's nothing," he sighed, this time trying on the role of optimistic one for a change. It did seem oddly comforting.

Sitting down with two full cups of milk, he placed one at his brother's elbow, and Mike pulled a face.

"Humor me," he chuckled, taking a sip from his own glass in hopes it would soothe the acid burning vicious holes in his stomach lining. "It's good for you, and I know you won't be eating much for breakfast after you finish off those Oreos. The calories in the filling alone-"

"Since when did I ever worry about calories, Donny?" Mike cut in. "I can keep my girlish figure without the fancy diet, thank you."

Don couldn't help but chuckle at the goofy sideways smile that always followed one of his brother's patented awful jokes. But there was that optimism again, a savior, as always. That gnawing feeling in his stomach had already started to ebb. He reached for one of the last remaining cookies.

"You aren't the only one with nightmares, you know."

Now that made Don freeze in mid chew, his stomach started rumbling all over again.

Just two moments before, they had been joking, eating Oreos, enjoying comfortable silence- then it all came flooding back like a tsunami wave. That was the hole that missing two brothers left between them, constantly crying to be filled.

"Oh?"

It was all he could think of saying at the time, so dumbstruck like some drunkard standing on the train tracks, just waiting for the roar of the engine to find him. Painfully, he swallowed down the bit of cookie that had suddenly turned rancid in his mouth.

Something cold was sinking into that darkened void as Don looked into his brother's eyes, and for the first time, he saw the most terrifying brand of fear he had ever seen those blue eyes possess. It chilled him to the bones.

Mike lazily rolled the last Oreo across the table top with his finger, gluing his eyes to the little trail of crumbs it left behind.

"I just… I couldn't sleep anymore. I was dreaming about Raph's bike, and the Battle Shell and…"

Don could practically feel his entrails turn to ice inside him. With a sigh, they melted over into something slightly less comfortable swimming in the pit of his gut. He barely managed a sympathetic nod.

He knew exactly what his baby brother meant.

They had found the Battle Shell, abandoned and unmarred amongst a bloodied battlefield sprayed across the new fallen snow. That was the day after Leo and Raph had disappeared.

They had followed the tracks, dug for clues until their fingers went numb, wandered through every trash strewn alleyway and abandoned brickwork factory of old fisheries and those filthy, rotting docks. Each and every lead gave them nothing.

That is, until they found Raph's bike.

The skid marks on the road pointed down over the muddied embankment, torn to shreds by something dragged across the newly frozen ground. Signs of a struggle by the water's edge were obvious and terrifying, but still, they were signs nonetheless.

That day, they had pulled Raph's mangled motorcycle from the harbor's filthy waters.

It was then that Don knew: hope of finding his brothers whole and alive was dwindling.

At that moment, Mike had felt it too. Still, it plagued his dreams, letting his overactive mind come up with the scenarios that could have lead to the makings of that abandoned battle ground, that sacred, blood-smeared land, their brother's last, and maybe final stand.

In his mind, his big brothers would have gone down fighting like the heroes in his comic books, or the god-like warriors in the old epic tales of the Greek and Roman soldiers.

But that was something he tried not to think about.

"Don?" His voice sounded younger, even to his own ears. "Do you think maybe… we could go out looking, one last time, before the sun comes up? I… I just have a feeling that maybe this time we can find them."

There was a sad light in his brother's eyes that Don could not refuse. Finishing his glass of milk, he couldn't stop himself from nodding.

"Sure, Mikey, and we can go wherever you feel. Right now, it's the best lead we can ask for."

* * *

Raphael's fever broke overnight, and he had seemed more lucid than he had been in days… or weeks. Leonardo couldn't tell. But something in his bones did whisper it was nearly morning, nearly time for one more day, one more prayer, one more breath of death and failure as he tried to keep a tether to some fleeting shred of hope.

He had taken up the hobby of busying himself with checking his brother's pulse. It seemed to chase away the waking nightmares just long enough to feel something close to reality, something far away from the tangible, suffocating dark. His brother's pulse, still as strong as ever, served as a beacon in the eternal night.

That night he had dreamt of blood and dogs again, but this time, they were eating his brothers whole. One by one they stripped them of their greedy flesh and licked the bloody tears that came pouring from his eyes, from their weeping wounds. And he was still far too weak, far too helpless to save them. He wasn't their leader, he wasn't their brother, he was their death.

One way or another, he was the reason. He was their fate.

Every day, his tether frayed a little more.

He reached to check his brother's pulse again, his skin slick with salty sweat, but the movement pulled the blood-caked cut that wound around his shoulder, snaking up to the nape of his neck. Leo cringed, but in some brave show of twisted masochism, he grit his teeth and continued, almost satisfied at the stinging pull of healing flesh being reopened, and pressed his fingers to that hidden artery.

_That bitch, _his mind screamed like feral things, _she will pay for every drop of blood she's spilled._

But he shook that thought away, saved it for a later time. He was formulating a plan. He would not rot dark and wounded in her shadow for much longer. Soon, he would find his redemption; soon, he would taste his revenge.

She had stripped him of his honor, and he had felt he was bound to it no longer, leaving his mind free to wander across the fields of gore and darkest corners of his imagination.

Sometimes, he even scared himself.

But that pulse, so solid, real, and tangible… it was the only thing anchoring him to reality in this nightmare world. It was the sound of something like hope shattering in the night.

Often he wondered how much longer it would take for even that to lose its hold on him.

"Don." Raph stirred, woken by his brother's touch and blinked open blurry eyes. His voice was so harsh, it made even Leo cringe. He again choked out his brother's name. "Donny… Don?"

Leonardo rolled his eyes around the dark, as if almost half believing his brother would emerge from somewhere in the shadows. But quickly, he was defeated, and pushed the thought away.

"Not here Raph. He's not here."

Raphael opened his eyes a little wider, swallowing thickly. "Then where is he?"

Leo thought twice before answering, turning his tired eyes away to stare off into the darkness for a little while. When he found his answer, it barely passed his lips. "The question is… where are _we_?"

There was a long silence, a pregnant pause filled only by the sound of a sluggish stream of dripping water fed from a leak in the ceiling. Its rhythm had at first been a light of hope- maybe there was a crack, or a weakness in the foundation from where it stemmed that could spell freedom- but no. He could find nothing.

Shortly afterward, it had become a curse, grating on the edges of his nerves and the unraveling threads of his own sanity until he was sure they would bleed. It made him almost want to howl with rage like some untamed animal born from his haunted dreams.

But after a while, it became as common as a heartbeat, as soothing as his breath, as natural as blinking.

It was an absolutely insane idea, but sometimes, it was the only thing that could keep him from screaming.

"I need Don. Tell him ta get his ass over here. I… I think I'm sick, and my leg hurts like hell," Raphael groaned with a wince. It was enough to snap his brother out of his little nightmare world.

Recently, separating the dark from reality was becoming more difficult. It felt like just a matter of days until he completely lost his mind.

That is, if he hasn't already…

"He isn't coming."

Those three words came out flat, hard and dark just like their concrete prison.

Raph was slowly trying to sit himself up against the wall, but was quickly gripped by a fit of coughing that left him nearly breathless.

Leonardo stared straight into the darkness without a flinch, like stone carved from the walls, and waited for it to pass.

When Raphael was finished, left weak and sputtering limply against the damp concrete walls, Leo did not even spare him a second of a glance.

"Why… why isn't he coming?" Raph gasped at last, eyes closed tight, focusing on controlling the contractions of his lungs.

His response was almost mechanical. "We've been captured. By Karai. You've been falling in and out of consciousness for days, but I'm glad you're awake. I've got a plan."

"A plan?" Raph groaned. This whole situation was giving him a headache. "What kind of plan?"

"A stupid one."

Raph blinked. The tone in his brother's voice definitely did not sound right. It sounded… hopeless, hollow, cold. It was the voice of someone with nothing left to lose.

He'd heard it a thousand times, crossing paths with street punks in dark alleyways who thought their lives couldn't get any worse, who thought that risking it all, meeting their deaths head on like running straight into a brick wall was the only thing they had left to do.

He'd taken pity on those idiots, wished they'd known how much their lives were really worth. It had always seemed that even the most miserable human life was worth far more than his own. No question about it.

But now, he'd heard it in his brother, and almost hoped that it was just the sickness messing with his mind. Everything was fuzzy, kind of muddled like getting lost in a fog. But those three words, they rang more clearly through the haze than any others.

…_a stupid one…_

Raph turned his head to find his answers, but Leo was still bent on staring blankly into the dark, emotionless like concrete. Even the air around him seemed colder.

"Someone will come in and bring us water soon. I can tell its morning. Then, it will begin."

"I… I don't understand."

For the first time in what seemed like ages, Leo snapped his gaze to meet his brother's eyes. His stone-cold gaze was more frightening than anything Raphael had ever seen. Without thinking, he shivered.

"Just listen to me, Raph! Listen to me! I need you to understand, I waited for you!" now his voice was desperate, pleading.

Raphael's eyes were wild, still glistening with the vestiges of fever dreams. They were searching the dark, looking for his answers and finding nothing. Leo could feel it.

He'd slowly grown accustomed to the dark.

But the concrete in his eyes was cracking, that well-practiced emptiness was falling away like broken window glass. The truth hit him like a tidal wave.

Leonardo covered his face with a trembling hand and tried to put himself together. But he couldn't. He just… couldn't. "I can't believe it's come to this," he whispered. His voice was shaking.

It was silent for a while as Raph tried to put the pieces together. He could remember being ambushed, Karai on the rooftop, swearing she would find the others, waking up in that same disgusting cell… but even though his mind seemed clearer, nothing seemed to fit. "Leo, I-"

"You have to understand," Leo snapped coldly, closing his eyes and shaking his head fiercely as if to chase away some hidden devil. "Because I can't do this without you knowing. I can't expect you to give your life…"

Leo's eyes widened, as if he had surprised himself with his own words.

There was that sinking feeling, like someone just dropped a boulder into the pit of his stomach. He swallowed. "Give… my life?"

"She's hunting them, Raph, hunting them like animals. If… if we wait around for her to find them, she'll kill everyone- Mikey, Don, Master Splinter. She'll kill me and make them watch."

Leo hadn't expected the wave of grief to hit him so hard, but he still couldn't keep those horrifying images out of his mind- the images that _she_ had planted there. He had to collect himself, breathe, because the next few moments were to be the most important minutes of his life. He could feel it.

"I can't just wait around for her to find them. Either way, we're going to die. There's no way out, and it's been far too long. We're running out of time. I can't just sit here losing my mind, knowing that there is at least one more thing I can do."

And then something unbelievable happened. Raph… smiled.

"So it looks like we go down fighting," he grinned, planting a hand on Leo's shoulder. "Always knew we would, bro. That's just how we are. You got your honor, I got my… I dunno what I got, but trust me, I'm ok with this."

Leonardo almost laughed, but he didn't know exactly why. It seemed a combination between his brother's acceptance of the inevitable, and the concept that Raph still thought he had honor left to protect. But either way, he'd take it.

"Then you're going to hate me for this part," he said with a wry smile. It was like suddenly, sitting in the shadow of his own demise, his heart had grown ten times lighter. It was an amazing feeling. "You have to pretend you're still asleep. You're not exactly in fighting condition, and if they know you're conscious, it will only add to the danger. If I'm going to do this, I have to do this right."

"You're gunna kill the bitch, aren't you?" Raph said flatly, his face sobering quite suddenly.

This time, Leo did choke out a laugh.

"Yes, I'm going to kill the bitch."

"And we're going to die."

"Yeah, probably."

"And you get to hog all the fun for yourself? Dammit Leo, that's so unfair," he smiled again, breaking the heavy tension for a second time.

There were few moments when Leo got to see this side of his brother. He was almost optimistic, playful, even. He knew most of it was the adrenaline-fueled anticipation before the fight, but another part of it was less recognizable. It was genuine, true, like an apology, forgiveness, acceptance, belief.

But that was how Raph worked. Sometimes, you just had to read between the lines.

"Thanks, Raph."

With the sound of footsteps approaching just outside the door, Raphael looked into his brother's eyes and nodded. That was all he had to do.

Before another word was said, the metal door swung open, the light searing through their retinas like branding irons.

Leo gave his Raph one last look, haloed by the sudden brightness like he was made of fire and light itself. Raphael, even in his hazy state, knew what that look meant. Years and years of dire situations had taught him to follow it without question. He closed his eyes and did what he was told.

Beside him, Leo seemed to be doing the same, suddenly growing limp and cringing unabashedly at the light pouring in. He held up a shaky hand to shield it from his face.

Two men clothed in black stepped in from the light like they had been born from the shadows themselves. One carried in a case of water bottles, the other there for simple backup and intimidation.

Leonardo didn't even dare to follow the shadows with his eyes. Instead, he winced into the back of his hand.

"Please… please… no more. No more."

One of the shadows froze as the other placed its burden down upon the old stone floor, straightening quickly as the other approached.

"No more… no... more. I'll talk… I swear upon whatever honor I still have."

"Are you asking for a meeting with the Mistress, creature?"

"Karai… I'll speak to Karai, only," he murmured, his harsh whisper just barely audible, even in the sickly silence of that concrete prison.

The shadows drew nearer. The larger spoke with a hidden smile in his voice.

"What is the use of that, creature? As soon as the Mistress knows the location of the den and your clan, she will inform us all," he spat, reaching out and pressing the turtle's head to the cold concrete, forcing him to meet his eyes in the blinding light.

"Let the animal have his little conference. It must have not learned the devices of the Mistress. It must not remember the sharpness of her blade," the other ninja cackled behind his mask. "But if the creature is willing to talk, maybe it will be spared a fraction of its suffering."

As the smaller ninja spoke into his communicator, the other shadow pulled away his hand from Leo's forehead. The turtle let it fall forward limply.

"She is coming, kame, it is in your best interest to stand true to your word."

Leo did not speak. He did not move. He simply waited for the fates to decide his broken destiny, the hands of death he would so willingly embrace.

In a matter of minutes, she had come just as the ghosts of the dead and hellhounds had whispered in his dreams, but the ninja did not leave.

He felt the cold blade of her tanto pressed to the soft flesh by his throat, he could hear Raph growling softly under his breath, trying his best to follow orders, he could see the blinding golden light pouring in from the partially closed cell door.

"Alone, Karai," he croaked, squinting up to her faceless shadow. "If I'm to speak to you, I'll speak to you alone."

Karai threw the weakened turtle a sneer. He was so utterly pathetic, grimacing as the tip of her tanto bit into his tender flesh. He looked more like an animal than ever without the mask, and it gave her even less of a sense of pity for it, for the creature, _Leonardo._

With one more poison glare, she bore holes into the turtle's eyes and ordered, without turning, to her ninja waiting in the wings. "Leave me."

As the shadow ninjas disappeared along with the blinding light, Leo had to fight back a satisfied smile.

It had all played out beautifully.

"So you have finally come to your senses, Leonardo?" she cooed, pressing the tip of her tanto a little harder into his flesh and twisting. Still, it remained unbroken. "You have finally accepted that your honor has left you long ago? That is a wise decision," she said coldly, a hidden grin touching the edges of her lips.

"I…"

Leonardo closed his eyes and went silent, and then, just as he expected, Karai loosened her grip on her tsuka for just one moment. He could feel its bloodthirsty tip lighten its hold on his throat for just a heartbeat's fleeting glimpse of time.

And then, it was all over.

Suddenly, he snapped to life and planted a bone-crushing kick into her abdomen, knocking the tanto from her hand and leaping over with unexplained grace towards where the silver blade had skidded across the cracked stone floor.

She could only stand there, eyes wide and alight with burning, feral rage. "You even dare to attempt this, Leonardo?" she seethed, her hand traveling to the communicator hooked on the belt by her hip.

He gripped her tanto, revenge written in his eyes, and took a step closer. The deadly tip of the tanto blade pointed at its own master's heart.

"What, Karai, you can't face me, half starved to death and beaten, thrown into this disgusting cell for god know how long?"

Her hand snapped away from the communicator, her frown turned into a feral sneer at the challenge.

"Two weeks," she said flatly "two weeks you have been left to rot in your dishonor, and now you even dare to think you can take it back."

He shook his head, tightening his grip on her sword. "No, Karai, you took my honor a long time ago. But if I kill you, my family will be safe. If you die, entire empires will fall."

He narrowed his eyes. "So screw honor. You're mine."

Rage like hellfire burned behind her eyes as she lunged without a word, risking the blade in her captive's hands and attacking with a frustrated howl.

"Kill me? Creature, you cannot kill me!" she roared, catching the blade of her tanto between her palms as it swung downward toward her head. Before he could blink, he was sent skidding across the room by a merciless kick to his plastron.

His vision blurred at the edges when his carapace scraped against the wall. But he was still clutching the tanto. There was hope for him yet.

He had made it to his knees when he saw her come charging at him from the dark, that same fire of feral rage still burning hot behind her eyes.

But Leo could see it coming, could predict her moves like the weather when she was so filled with venomous rage. Her next move, a bone-crushing blow to break his collarbone.

The hunger slowed him down, but passion, need, redemption, fueled him. Coursing adrenaline pushed him onward, made his reflexes unpredictably quick. He swung her tanto in a deadly arc and briskly avoided the merciless blow, using the end of its tsuka to strike her jaw.

Internally, he almost grinned when she staggered to regain her ground.

Rage unlike any he had ever seen possessed her now, clouded by her bitter, twisted ideas of death and honor, her obsession with restoring her wicked father's name. She launched again, this time a well-placed punch followed by a knee to the chest upon the counterstrike. But again, blind with rage and lethal hate, her blow met nothing but displaced air. She growled between her teeth in frustration.

"How dare you! After all the things you have done- to my father, to my family and _my_ name- you even _dare _to challenge me?"

They were circling each other, venomous hate electric in the air, but their stares- cold heat like the fever chills and death. Leonardo choked back a humorless laugh, pushing the heavy exhaustion from his mind before it could take a hold of his muscles, push him down and make him victim to the unforgiving hands of gravity. The sword trembled in his hand, but only slightly. She was staring at him too coldly to notice as a faint trail of crimson spilled from the corner of her mouth. She did not wipe it away.

In the dim light, Karai looked weakened too, thin and worn with dark circles edging around her eyes. Her skin, lined like ancient paper. He could not remember her ever looking so distraught, so thin and haunted.

Maybe the darkness had found her too. Maybe in her obsession with restoring her father's name, somewhere lying deep between the grief and anger that was burning in her eyes, she had gone a little mad herself.

Leo tightened his grip…

… he could work with that.

Wordlessly, he charged again before her weakness disappeared behind that cool steel façade once more. He swung the blade, and she beckoned him in.

He couldn't remember how or when, a flurry of movement that made his head spin and Karai was pinned to the cracked stone wall, her own blade pressing dangerously to her throat. Leonardo could only stare, lean into the lethal steel a little harder, and watch that crimson trail slowly from her lovely mouth.

Through the blood, she smiled, and he rolled his eyes up to meet hers.

Unfamiliar anger boiled in his stomach, and he hissed through clenched teeth like steel traps. "I have no honor, you've said it yourself, _bitch. _That's why I dare to challenge your ignorant, brainwashed, twisted version of the code. Your father had nothing but shame, evil, the blood of thousands dripping from his name. Anything you do, no matter how long you decide to hunt us, torture us, your name never had any honor to restore."

He could feel her fumbling with something. Her eyes narrowed and she smiled viciously through the blood. "Finally, it has come to this," she hissed "finally, we face each other, and battle to our deaths single-handed, just as it has always been destined to be."

He wanted so badly to run that blade across her throat, to see more crimson pour out of her ugly mouth as the blade cut through her tender flesh. He could almost taste its iron on this tongue, almost feel his fingers tremble, his muscles twitch, begging for that one last great release.

That is, until pain erupted like fire in his gut, that lethal smile winding murderously upon her vicious lips. He staggered backward, one hand reaching down to touch the handle of the knife protruding from his plastron, warm blood weeping like black crimson tears from the wound.

He almost fell, the exhaustion, hunger, pain finally claiming him into the dark, pulling him from every direction like the tides of an invisible sea, dragging him further into one final, deadly embrace.

The room spun. There was laughter in her voice.

"It is a shame only one of your outoto will be here see you die, Leonardo. It was not meant to work this way. But I suppose, the fates have dealt the final blows. This is the way it has to be."

He shook his head, his trembling hand, covering his bloodied wound…

"_No…"_

He had to drop the sword, he couldn't remember doing it, but he could hear it clatter onto the floor.

"Leo… "

Raphael, braced standing by the wall, eyes wide and fevered, his scream, a hopeless plea for his failing brother's life erupted through the heavy quiet like a strangled moan.

She was coming closer, that wicked grin still smeared across her lips. Her hand… hovering around the wound, pulling his shaking hand away and gripping the knife's protruding handle. Satisfaction burned in her eyes as she ripped the weapon from his flesh. It separated from his body with a sickly squelch that made his vision blare with unimaginable light.

"Leo!"

When the lights finally dimmed, he shook his head to chase away the haze, his brother's voice dragging him back to hard, cold reality, tainted with blood and pain and something new- a burning, life-giving rage.

She held the bloodied knife to his brother's throat, staring back to Leonardo, crumbling to his knees on the concrete.

"At least, you can watch me kill him as you breathe your dying breath."

Her gin widened and she laughed without restraint, every trace of sanity banished from her voice.

He had no honor, he had no life…

It was time to throw it all away.

"No!" He bellowed, peeling his hand away from the gaping bloody hole in his side. "No! You can't have them! It's not going to end like this!"

As if by some darkened miracle granted by a bloodthirsty god, his trembling hands found the forgotten tanto, abandoned on the cold concrete. He gripped its well worn hilt, his own blood slick beneath his fingertips.

Her eyes met his, wide and ravaged with unbridled fear. A sudden flash of pain ran through them as the thirsty steel of her own sword tore the blood from its master's living flesh.

Slowly, he dragged the sword across her throat like it was just a prayer, another extension of his meditation, now tainted by the hungry eyes of the dark. The deadly crimson glittered in unmatched feral beauty as it sprayed across the walls, glittered through the air and dribbled down his plastron in a deadly mist, given to the dark like a sacrifice as her arteries wept their final lament.

Without a word, that angry spark snaps quickly from her eyes like an extinguished candle's flame. Karai, blood soaked and defeated, crumpled to the ground, her head lolling nearly severed from her shoulders. Blood hemorrhaged from the wound like a deadly ocean, congealing on the concrete floors, lapping at their ankles like a ravenous crimson tide.

Leonardo felt his body buckle and sway like old oak tree against a hurricane wind. But before he fell, he caught a glimpse of Raphael's eyes, pressed a bloodied palm onto his already spattered plastron, leaving behind his gory mark, and smiled.

_It's done._

Raph reached out and caught him the best he could, fire tearing up his damaged leg. Without a word, he smiled back and stared into the darkness, waiting for fate to decide.

He could hear the pounding feet of one thousand foot ninja flooding down the hallways, ripping through the walls, shaking the cracked ceiling up above. Little pieces of concrete were falling into the gathering pool as the sluggish droplets turned into a stream. The filthy water mixed with the blood.

Fear, that's all he knew.

"I'm sorry" Leo breathed, eyes wide and full of sorrow as he eased himself down onto the blood soaked concrete, still half cradled in his brother's arms. "I'm so sorry."

He could feel a tear escape him and creep slowly down his cheek as the door to the cell flew open. It engulfed the world in burning light.

* * *

_A/N: This is most likely the second to last chapter of Invincible. I've decided to end it quickly before it turns into a beast and possibly continue in another fic, because I don't want to unleash yet another thirty chapter monstrosity into the fandom as I have done in the past. So my story line may continue later on, once I get my other on-goings out of the way. _

_Hope you guys enjoyed._

_Much Love,_

_Willowfly_


	13. Chapter 13: A Breaking Dawn

Chapter 13: A Breaking Dawn

"I don't even know anymore," Michelangelo sighed.

The first light of dawn had crept into the morning sky, turning the air a bitter grey. The sound of a pebble dislodged from the pavement skittered across the ground, echoing through the winding maze of alleys between old cracked fisheries. But somehow, every step felt more like proving dead ends than finding clues. Just another black line drawn across the maps, another probability proven wrong. The paths they'd taken, the roads, the old bloodstains washed away with the thawing snow, even the damn cracks embedded in the asphalt were starting to feel familiar now.

They must have come here a million times. Mike was almost positive he could walk there in his sleep. "We've been here forever, looking at the same stupid garbage," he said with a knot in his brow. A hint of unexpected anger tinged his voice as he kicked up a pile of sodden newspapers. "Raph's the one that's good at tracking, not us. Not me."

He'd been watching his shadow creep across the walls for a while now—dark, faceless, uncertain. He pressed his hand against the crumbling stone, and the shadow-hand came to meet it. His fingers brushed the ancient brickwork, sending a channel of dust tumbling to the ground. He closed his eyes, breathed.

Don was behind him, wordless, just the hollow scraping of shell against a far wall. Mike had been so strong for so long—three weeks, _so damn long— _it was unbearable, but a godsend, a blessing and a curse. This breath, this snapshot of time was so fragile, he felt the air could be shattered with a touch. He couldn't find the voice to speak or the energy to move away from the wall that had once borne a bloody handprint—forgotten.

Mikey slid his hand off the wall, slowly, letting his fingertips graze it before it fell limply to his side. "D-do you really think we could find them?" His voice was small, like a child's. "I mean… we would know, right?"

Don let out a breath, eyes wandering away across the alley. He knew what his brother meant, but it was better to pretend not to. His voice caught in his throat.

"We would know… if they died?"

He couldn't find the words.

Mike was right, always right about keeping faith, searching more, holding on to hope no matter how illogical the circumstance. But standing there against the wall, reality had come to find him still. Reality was something Don just couldn't argue with. He had to look away—from his brother, from the walls, but the sky looked just as foreboding. "I would like to think so."

Michelangelo only nodded and turned to wander farther up the alley.

They walked that way for a while, in the silence, farther than they usually went for the time of day. This part of the city was a maze of decaying brickwork and empty windows. The machinery within had gone silent long ago, draped in cobwebs and layers of dust. They had systematically searched them all from top to bottom, and every one of them was just the same—silent, like a tomb.

"What was that?"

Donatello almost fell over backwards after colliding with his brother's suddenly motionless carapace. "Ow, _Mikey, _what—"

"Shh!"

Don immediately pressed his mouth closed, letting Mike practically drag him into the shadows. Mikey's eyes were wild as he took Don by the shoulders, heart thrumming in his ears, and pointed to the shadows leaping over the divide where they stood. "Look!"

They had to watch in stunned silence, watching the raven-men pouring over the edge of the building, blotting out the sky.

They had never seen numbers like this before, shifting overhead like a cloud of sparrows across the building gap.

There was only one way to describe it: it was an _army._

Retracting further into the shadows, Don's words came as barely a whisper. "The Foot…"

The last of them were passing, and Mikey's eyes were searching, set alight by a new fire now. "Do you remember when you told me we can 'go wherever I feel'?" A sly grin spread over his face. "I just got a feeling."

* * *

The light was unbearable. Raphael wanted to scream, wanted to tear out the throats of the men that were dragging them into this hell of light and fire. He could _feel _his pupils constricting to pinpricks like staring at the sun. He closed his eyes and let them drag him, chaos swelling to near deafening volume. But the darkness behind his lids was still stained and painful.

He couldn't remember how long it had taken to grow that accustomed to the dark. The days before chaos were coated in haze and the vestiges of sleep, crumbling like ashes on a chill wind.

Hands, the heat of breath and bodies, the smell of sweat and iron panic, screaming pounding at his skull from every direction. He could only close his eyes tighter, too weak to fight or even struggle against the grips of a thousand faceless, howling men.

All pain was erased, every thought, breath, heartbeat drawn in light and sound. There was only one thing the chaos would allow: terror. Deep, rotting terror.

"Leo!" He roared over the screams of the ninja. He reached out into the ocean of bodies and his fingertips found his brother's shoulder.

He'd always know it, the feel of his brother's skin. Even blind, even staring down the throes of death, he would know it.

"_Leo!" _ His eyes burned until tears pooled and spilled, but he wrenched them open wide.

And there was Leonardo, limp beneath his captors' grasp, pale and thin by the countless days. The gaping hole carved into his plastron wept a cascade of black and crimson. His hands were stained, his body smeared with it almost beyond recognition. The blood was not only his own.

Raph's stomach roiled, choking on his panic. The tides of black-clothed men were crushing in all around them, hunger in their eyes. "Oh god," he croaked. "Oh god."

Then, by some miracle, Leo lifted his head, only dull eyes peering through the wall of bodies. Softly, he smiled at his brother. "I'm here, outouto."

Raphael's fear didn't ebb, but a great relief washed over his consciousness, crushing out everything else in the massive room. "Don't leave me," he choked. "_Please_."

"I would never leave you," he vowed as Raphael's touch left his shoulder. The last of his brother was swallowed up by the angry black sea.

They were dragging him roughly up to a concrete platform, the blood loss making his head spin and his vision swim. He let his head hang limply forward, exhaustion overtaking him and unconsciousness threatening the corners of his mind.

But he didn't surrender to it. No, he would never surrender to the likes of the Foot. Not now. There was one point in the darkness where he thought he had lost it all—his honor, his control, his respect, his sanity. She tried to take it from him. She drove herself mad trying to destroy it. But Leonardo now knew these things couldn't be so easily stripped away.

He had murdered Karai. He was baptized in her blood. Nothing could ever take that from him.

With his last ounce of strength, he found his footing, and walked willingly up the concrete steps. Pain and weakness forgotten. Light-headed, he felt like he was floating two inches off the ground, looking down from above and the great writhing, leaderless hoard.

They were calling for his blood. But it was a sacrifice he gladly took, he and Raphael together, to save the rest of their family, their brothers, from death.

By his own power, he reached the top of the platform and looked out to the living black sea. Drenched in the blood of their leader mingling with his own, he gratefully accepted his fate.

* * *

_The day had been one of those rare care-free kinds that left you smiling and giggling and cracking jokes long after it was done. Donny and Mikey were doing just that, plopped in front of the TV without a care in the world. From where Leo was standing, he could see Mikey's feet where his head should be on the couch, which wasn't as odd as you'd think. _

_It wasn't long before the two of them were in peels of laughter again, rolling around on the floor, gasping for breath._

_Leo knew exactly what they were joking about too, which made that twist of guilt in his stomach only tighten._

_Raphael was nowhere to be seen, which wasn't that big of a deal. They had teased him pretty bad back there by the drainage tunnel. But a few hours of running around the sewers had him forgetting about it pretty quickly. He and Mikey and Donny had played pirates in a new runoff channel for what seemed like forever until they finally decided to go home._

_But the minute Leo stepped into the Lair, it all came back to him even worse than before._

_So that's why he was pacing outside of Sensei's door—back and fourth and back and fourth, trying to get enough courage to decide whether he was going to actually go in or not. He practically jumped out of his shell when Splinter's voice called from within._

"_Leonardo, are you planning to wear a groove into the floor, or will you enter and tell me what is bothering you?"_

"_Ummm…"_

_The shoji door opened suddenly, and Master Splinter stood in the doorway, trying to suppress a smile. "No need to be hesitant, my son. Come in."_

_But even after Splinter had told him not to be afraid, Leo still was. He took a seat on the mat across from his sensei and tried not to let his eyes wander around the room._

"_You know you can come to me whenever you are troubled, Leonardo. Do not feel afraid to."_

"_I know, Sensei," he murmured. "It's just…"_

_Splinter did not respond, only sat and patiently waited for his son to find his words._

"_It's just that Raphael was acting pretty weird today. I mean… weirder than he usually does." The boy smiled cheekily up at his father, waiting for an admonishment that didn't come. "We were kinda mean to him when we were playing."_

"_I have spoken to you and your brothers about the teasing, Leonardo," Splinter chided softly, watching his son's eyes fill up with shame. _

"_I'm sorry, Sensei," Leo said softly, bowing to his father apologetically._

"_It is all right, my son," he replied, placing a hand upon Leonardo's shoulder as he lifted himself from the bow. "But you know, I am not the one whom deserves an apology."_

"_I know…" Leo's eyes wandered across the walls of Splinter's room. "I- I just don't get him, father. One second he wants to play, and then he doesn't. And sometimes he'll laugh and joke around, then he's crying because someone said something mean. I think there's something wrong with him."_

_The boy's eyes were so hopeful for an answer, it almost hurt to not be able to provide him one. Splinter sat in silence for a moment, gathering his thoughts from the creased brow of his oldest, expecting him to explain the matter away with a word._

"_It is a complicated answer," he mused, "but I will explain it as this: we are each unique beings, my son, different in many ways. Just as we are different from those who walk the world above, your brothers are different from one another." Splinter hesitated for a breath, hopeful his lesson was hitting its mark. "Let me ask you this. Though humans fear us for our differences, does that make us… as you say 'weird'?"_

_Leo had to giggle at his father's choice of words. "No…" His smile cracked into a grin. "Well, kinda."_

_Splinter's whiskers twitched, threatening a smile of his own. "But does that make us bad?"_

"_No, I don't think so. I like who I am. I like our family. I don't think we're bad. You say all the time that we're special. I think it's in a good way."_

_Splinter nodded. "So you would agree that not all differences are bad, or even 'weird'."_

"_Yes," Leonardo agreed eagerly."Some differences are good."_

"_That is how you must perceive your brother. He is different, yes, but his differences are not something we should see as bad, or even strange. He is Raphael. His emotions run deeply, even though he is learning ways to hide it from us. He is sensitive, fiercely loyal, and genuine to a fault. But that is who he is, my son. That uniqueness should not be mocked, it should be celebrated."_

_Leo's face was suddenly grim with seriousness. "I understand, father."_

"_But…"_

_The boy's eyes widened at his sensei's expectant gaze. "But I don't understand him. I don't get him at all."_

_The old rat chuckled slightly at the desperation in his son's voice. "You are young, Leonardo. You are still learning to understand yourself, never less the inner workings of others."_

_Leo looked absolutely stricken by this news. It was enough for Splinter to completely break the formality of the moment. He motioned for his son to come closer, and pulled the small boy into his lap. With a sigh, he rested his head on his father's shoulder, and suddenly felt a whole lot less worried._

"_Do not fret yourself, my son," the old rat murmured. "I know you pride yourself with being the eldest, but you cannot see it as an obligation to understand it all. It is not your duty. Your duty is to lead them, be their guidance as only a brother can be. Raphael does not need someone to fully understand him. He needs someone to guide him when his emotions cloud his judgment. It is your duty to take his hand and lead him in the right direction."_

_Leonardo's voice was soft against his shoulder. "Does that mean I'll never understand him, sensei?"_

"_Perhaps with time, my son. One day, you will learn to understand yourself, and in turn gain the wisdom to understand others. Until then, you must lead him to the best of your ability."_

* * *

They had been tailing the pack of ninja from for miles, racing across the rooftops at an exhausting speed. Wherever they were heading, it was urgent. The two extra shadows following at a distance went unnoticed. No man faltered out of sync, no man slowed even a step to break the maddening pace.

By then, all doubts in Donatello's mind had faded. Something was definitely fishy.

The icy morning air had given him clarity, finally, after all these miserable days of pointless searching and sleepless nights. The ninja lead them to a part of the city they hadn't yet explored with great thoroughness, which only made the anxious fire in Don's gut burn hotter.

This had to be it. They were running out of options.

When the pack had dropped off the roofs and into a dark alley, Don and Mike watched them pour into a nearby building from the shadows. The sound of voices coming from within was deafening and explosive. The outraged roars of a thousand men echoed through the silent streets, beckoning in the morning sun.

There was a skylight on the roof of the building. Wordlessly, Donatello motioned to his brother, and they hopped across the divide. The glass was murky and clouded with age, but nothing could deny the scene that stretched before them, two stories below.

Foot ninja, more in one place than they had ever seen, filling every inch of the massive warehouse. Gone was the cold and silent discipline, gone was the mechanical obedience. In its place was a tangle of bodies, hands reaching out, a consuming mass of angry sea. Like a concrete pupil surrounded in a black iris was a platform. In its center stood Leonardo.

He looked like a living, blood-drenched corpse. But somehow, he was on his feet, staring down the furious masses.

"Oh my god."

"Holy crap! They're gunna kill him! What the heck are we gunna do? Oh, crap oh crap oh crap—"

Mikey's eyes were wider than he'd ever seen them before, and his face was ashen. The only way Don could pry him away from the window was to yank him backward by the edges of his carapace. "Mike, shut up! They'll hear you."

The light of dawn was soaking through the clouds, still growing brighter and chasing away all the shadows.

They both could collapsed back onto the rooftop, gasping for breath, with the bite of roofing tar digging into their skin. Michelangelo had fallen silent, trembling like a leaf.

The next course of action began to play in Don's mind like all those charts and maps tacked onto his lab walls. His hand moved for the shell cell before he could give it a second thought, and shakily dialed for Splinter.

"M-Master Splinter," he panted, "we found Leo. We'll need backup. Tell April to bring the Battle Shell. We'll need everything we got. Casey too."

A silence fell over him like holding a breath.

"No… I don't know…We haven't seen him… But it's bad, Sensei. _Really _bad."

Mikey didn't need to hear the other side of the conversation. He was too busy choking on his own panic to even breathe.

Don closed the phone with a grim expression.

"We need to do something. We can't just sit around here and wait—"

"I know," Don interrupted, motioning for Mike to join him over on the other side of the roof. Far below stood the silent alleyway, still cloaked in shadow. Don hesitated before withdrawing his bo. "Do you see those two men down there, guarding the door?"

Mike nodded wordlessly.

A daring smirk swept across Don's face. He tightened his grip on his weapon. "I have an idea."

* * *

_A/N: Wow, it's been a really long time since I updated this. I hope you guys are still with me! In the last chapter I had mentioned something about this being the end. Well… I had some problems with that. For one, it's chapter 13, which I really didn't want to end on. Two, it would have been enormous, so I divided it in half._

_This fic… really has no plot. Like, at all. When I start a story, I usually have it all planned out from beginning to end. I never had a game plan for this one. Sure, some came and passed, and failed miserably, but here I am (finally) ending it. Or, well, one step closer to finally ending it._

_Mostly this fic was me dicking around with character study. I never thought people would actually like it. And I certainly didn't think it would end up winning two awards in the Fanfiction comps! Jeez. _

_Guess I must be doing something right. Thank you for your reviews and support!_

_I intend to crank the last chapter out relatively soon, as opposed to another six months from now ;_

_Here's hoping!_

_Much Love,_

_Willowfly_


	14. Chapter 14:Crushing Dark, the Fallen Sun

Chapter 14: A Crushing Dark, the Fallen Sun

_Leonardo stood by the doorway, pacing a rut in the floor for the second time that day. This time he was outside the kitchen, listening to the clink of soapy dishware. Raphael was standing on a stool in front of the sink, not quite tall enough to reach without one. The tap was running, and his back was turned. Leonardo watched intently as his brother reached for another dirty plate from the pile stacked on the counter, soapy water dripping from his elbows._

_Extra chores, for sure. Sensei usually washed the dishes._

_Master Splinter said that Raph had come home in a huff, probably crying again if it was like all those other times. He didn't like being teased at all. Nobody did. But it was the way he always dealt with it that made picking on him such great sport. He never really laughed it off like Mikey or Donny could. And usually those two could give it back to you twice as bad if you dared. Leo was o-nii-san, it was a whole different ballgame. He had much more important stuff to worry about than letting such silly things bother him. But when it was Raphael's turn to play the game, he was all hot-faced and teary eyed, hands balled into fists. _

_What Leo told his master was true. He never did quite get Raphael._

"_What did you do this time?"_

_The scrubbing stopped, and Raphael lifted his head briefly before grudgingly getting back to work. "None of your business," he snapped._

_Leo frowned, leaning against the doorframe. He was half-tempted to just turn around and leave, forget the whole thing even happened. Raph didn't want him there anyways. But for some reason he stayed, letting the quiet sink in between them over the running tap. "I just wanted to say I'm sorry." _

"_Sorry about what?" _

_His voice was still so bitter. He refused to turn around, but Leo knew Raph wasn't ignoring him. He knew that just standing there was eating him up inside. He could tell by the way he held his shoulders, like he was in pain, like he'd have to attack at any moment._

_It was the reaction they were always looking for. It was like playing with fire—strike a match and watch the world burn. Over time they'd become fascinated with it, tempted it, fed it until it grew. But under that fire, Leo was scared he was losing his brother._

_Raph was right. They had been friends once—always the strongest, the bravest of the four, the most interested in Splinter's teachings. Together they would roam the edges of the sewer pipes Splinter had marked with white chalk. Raph would make up all sorts of terrible stories about what lurked beyond those lines, and Leo always listened, putting on the bravest face he could._

_He couldn't think of what had made it change. It was like one second they were staring down the dark together, best friends, then suddenly they were not. Raphael would wander off during their games, chasing away anyone who tried to bring him back. Instead of stories, he'd go quiet and cross his arms over his chest like he was daring all those imaginary creatures to come and take him._

_They had all grown a lot that year. Master Splinter had brought an old TV down from the dump, and Donny had spent weeks finding a way to rig it up. Around their eighth birthday, the old black-and-white set was running good as new on its own tapped power supply. A little after that, Leo received his first pair of practice katana. That day, Splinter had told them all that someday, Leonardo would lead their clan._

_It was around then that Raph had started acting weird._

_Leo shuffled his feet for a moment, turning his eyes down at the floor when his brother finally turned around. He could hear the water on Raph's arms dripping onto the floor. Pat pat pat, like rainwater_._ "I'm sorry you're weird. I know you can't help it," he murmured._

"_What?" He barked. "I'm weird? You're the weird one, shell-fer-brains!"_

_Leo's eyes snapped up. His brother was fuming, and completely dry-eyed. "How am I the weird one? And Master Splinter says that being weird isn't a bad thing. It's what makes you special."_

"_See, that's why you're weird right there," Raph said, pointing an accusing finger. "It's always 'Splinter says this' or 'Sensei says that'. You kiss his butt so much I bet your lips hurt. What the heck's _wrong_ with you?"_

_Leo's eyes narrowed, heart racing in his chest. Still, he managed to keep his voice even. "How is that wrong? I only want to do what's right, Raphael. It isn't my fault you're jealous."_

"_I'm _not_ jealous of you." _

_Leo rolled his eyes. "Yes you are. I saw how you looked when Sensei said that thing about clan leader."_

"_I'm not jealous!"_

_There was a deafening clatter of pots and broken dishes hitting the brick floor. Leo flinched, stepping back and finding his shell against the wall. He had never_ _seen his brother like this before._

"_You think I wanna be like you? You think I wanna be some robot that only does what Splinter says? You can't even breathe without running to _daddy _to ask him if you're doin' it right. You should of just stayed a regular turtle, Leo. Then you really could be Sensei's pet. I think I woulda liked you better that way anyway."_

"_That's not true!" Leo shouted. "You _told _me he was gunna pick you. You _told _me you were gunna be the leader. You always wanted to be leader and now you're mad 'cause you're just not as good as me."_

_Raph's eyes narrowed dangerously. "Take that back," he said darkly._

"_No."_

"_I said take it back!" _

_But it was too late. Raph was lunging at him from the other side of the room, teeth bared like some kind of animal. He tackled Leo onto the floor, shouts and insults turned into fists. They rolled across the room, locked together in a way they had never done in sparring. This was all vicious and raw emotion. This was hate and ugliness and terrifying_.

_Leo managed to pin Raph's shoulders, earning him a kick in the stomach that sent him falling backwards into a kitchen chair. It tipped over with a clatter, but neither of them stopped. Leo had his brother in a headlock, Raph clawing at his arms with his nails, when Mikey stumbled into the doorway. His eyes grew wide and his face went ashen._

"_Guys, stop! Stop! Why are you fighting?" He yelped, his pleas going completely ignored. "Stop or I'll tell Sensei!" He cried, stomping his foot._

_Leo's heart was beating too loudly in his ears to hear. He'd never felt anger like this before. But in a flash it was over. Raph stopped scratching his arms and punched him square in the beak. His vision skipped and he released, hand traveling up to the warm trickle running from his beak. His palm was streaked with red when he pulled it away. Raph wasn't fazed by the blood. His dangerous expression never changed. Leo blinked up at him, stunned._

_You're _not _better than me!" He took a threatening step forward and Leo flinched. "Say it!" _

"_Raphael! That is enough!"_

_The room went silent and all eyes traveled to Master Splinter now taking command of the doorway. Mikey clung to his hand, eyes brimming with tears, but shrunk back out of sight at the nasty glare he'd received. Leonardo got to his feet._

"_What is the meaning of this?"_

_Both boys had gone silent, refusing to even look at one another._

"_Leonardo…"_

_Leo raised his eyes, lips pressed into a tight line and beak still dripping blood. He didn't want to talk about this. He didn't even understand what had happened. But his sensei was waiting for an answer. He had no other choice. "He just blew up, Sensei! And he broke all those dishes!"_

"_He's lying!" Raph howled, the threat of tears making his voice thick. "He started it!" _

"_Raphael! I did not ask you to speak."_

"_No, Sensei! You always blame me! You never blame him! Why is it always my fault?" _

_Splinter was taken aback. He had never seen so much anger in a child. "You know that is not true. I have always—"_

"_No, I hate him! He gets away with everything!" Raph screamed, lunging for his brother again. "I'm gunna smash his face in!"_

_Splinter had to move quickly and pry the boys apart. Raph had only managed to push Leo backwards a step before they were herded to opposite sides of the room, their Master standing between them. Leo had fallen silent. His face was pale. His eyes were wide, completely devastated. "I will not tolerate such hostility," Splinter said. "You are brothers. You are family. You are meant to love and respect one another, not treat each other as enemies. You have brought dishonor upon yourselves."_

_Raphael grit his teeth, but didn't speak. His razor-edged glare was enough. Leo's voice was small and thin on the other side of the room. "Master… can I be excused?"_

_There was such a look of hurt on the boy's face, it made Splinter's heart give a little squeeze. "Hai, wash your face then go to your room. I will speak to you there."_

_The boy gave a little bow before pushing out the doorway. Splinter turned to Raphael. His expression had not lightened. "Raphael, you will do the same. Go to your room and meditate on what has driven you to act this way. I will speak with you once you have calmed yourself."_

_Raph said nothing, stubbornly wiping away tears and storming out of the room. Splinter was left alone in the kitchen. He sighed and stooped to pick up the mess of broken glass on the floor. The silence that followed was almost too heavy to bear._

* * *

The sea of ninja was closing in from all sides, threatening to swallow them whole. Leo's head spun with the motion, the voices, the sheer effort it took to stand. Every second was a fight to grasp the last threads of consciousness before they were finally ripped away.

He would die tonight. He had come to terms with that the minute the cell door opened. Her blood was cooling on his skin, mingling with his own oozing from the stab wound in his plastron. He could feel his life's energy slowly draining away with it, replaced by a settling cold that had taken a hold of his bones. His fingers were numb. His hands were bound in front of him with a rough coil of rope, tied tight enough to surface the pulse in his wrists. He tested it, trying to bring some blood to his fingertips, but it held fast and bit into his skin. His head was swimming with fatigue, but he battled it away. If he was going to die tonight, he would do so with a measure of dignity. That was something they could never take from him.

The platform they had herded him onto would be the stage for his execution. Every pair of eyes that watched from that sea of black was thirsting for his blood.

Raphael was brought on next, thrown at Leo's feet and gasping for air. His face was twisted with pain, pushing himself onto his hands and knees though every muscle and bone protested. His mouth was bleeding, open, panting for breath he just couldn't satisfy. But in that moment of weakness, Leo couldn't take his eyes away. Their gazes met. When he'd expected all the light to be drained from brother's face, there was fire burning in his eyes. He wasn't giving up just yet.

Leo almost smiled. He had another idea.

The ninja that had dragged them onto stage retreated against the wall and something shifted within the crowd. Another ninja, tall and dripping with an air of arrogance had entered the platform, peeling off his mask. His back was turned to the captives as he did so, tucking it into his belt and raising a hand, commanding silence. Strangely enough, the crowd obeyed him without question.

"The Mistress is dead," he said in a distinctly Japanese accent, "and these are the creatures that _dare _defile our clan and our name. They must pay with their blood!"

"With their lives!" Howled a member of the crowd. This was met with a bombardment of jeers and threats, eclipsing the commanded silence. "Cut out their intestines!" Shouted another.

It was perfect. Leo met Raphael's gaze again, and this time he did allow himself a hint of a smile. Raph's eyes flashed viciously. Without the exchange of a single word, he knew they had a plan.

A restless silence had fallen over the crowd again, but this man was obviously losing his hold on them. When he finally turned to the captives, Leo had to fight back a cringe. The entire right half of the man's face was carved with a mangled mess of scar tissue. He smiled wickedly, the ruined side of his mouth strangely twisted. "They call for your deaths as you stand," he said. "I can only wish to provide my people with what they desire." His black eyes darted dangerously from one turtle to another, withdrawing a tanto from its scabbard at his waist. In one fluid movement, the blade found Raphael's throat.

Leo watched the sword halt inches away from slicing open his brother's jugular vein, every muscle tight with panic. Raph was on his knees, still panting and covered with a sheen of sweat, but his eyes never lost their fire. He watched the crowd with cold defiance.

"It was her wish for this one to die first," the man said wickedly. It took Leo a moment to realize he was being spoken to. "Do you have anything to say, creature?"

Leo's heart was rocketing in his chest. There was his moment, the last window of opportunity he ever would get. It had to work. There was no other choice but death.

"Speak!" The ninja ordered. One of the guards pushed him roughly from behind.

The crowd began to boo him before he could utter a word. But they had to listen. It was the only way. "I killed your leader, I robbed her of her honor," he shouted in the strongest voice he could muster. "So I have to ask… which one of you has the _right_ to restore it?"

The man holding the tanto to Raph's throat stiffened. "I am Kagawa Hayato, second-in-command appointed by the Mistress herself."

"But were you chosen by the Shredder?"

The question had come from the crowd. In that moment, all the air had been robbed from the room. The ocean of ninja shifted uneasily, flooding the room with a string of harsh whispers. The tall ninja did not answer. His grip tightened around the hilt of his tanto and Raphael swallowed uncomfortably against the bite of the blade.

From behind them, a guard stepped forward and made a threatening gesture. "I have never seen this man before. I have served the clan for years and I know nothing of him. He is no better than a dog! Imposter! He has no right!"

The ninja's eyes narrowed to slits, making the ruined side of his face even more grotesque. "This is heresy," he spat, taking the blade from Raphael's throat. Instead, he held it between himself and the guard. The shouts of the crowd were growing by the second, voices blending into one deafening howl inside cavernous walls of the warehouse. "I advise you to learn your place before your blood spills as well."

The guard's hand traveled to the hilt of his katana, but he reluctantly stepped backward at the challenge, resuming his position against the wall. With his surrender, he had taken the roar of the crowd with him. A hush fell over the room and the ninja's blade found Raph's throat again. The man eyed Leonardo with a wicked grin that seemed to say, "_I will enjoy this"._

The next time Leo looked into his brother's eyes, they were dull.

* * *

They dropped from their perch on the rooftop right on top of the two unsuspecting guards. It was almost too easy from there. Don, holding his bo like a baseball bat, slugged his guard across the face in a spray of blood and teeth. He fell onto the pavement in a heap. By that time Mike had already taken his guard out and was dragging him deeper into the shadows.

"The uniforms!" Don whispered from the shadows across the alley. He pulled the mask off his guard, revealing the ugly bruise already blossoming over a broken cheekbone. It always amazed him how normal these people appeared under all that black and exhibition. They always tried to avoid unmasking these people. It made it too difficult to do what they needed to do, and hesitation was certain death.

Masked and distant, it was easy to forget they were human beneath it all. It was that level of detachment that let him sleep at night. But moments like this, stripping this bare-faced man who no one would take a second look at walking down the street, reminded Donatello of a lot of things he'd tried so hard to repress.

Don had to look away. He left the man unconscious behind a rusted dumpster and pushed it out of his mind. Luckily these guards were fairly bulky. The uniforms would fit well enough.

Pulling on the mask, he stepped into grey light creeping into the alley by a pair of metal doors. A steel grey morning had taken hold behind the clouded sky, chasing away the shadows. The light only made Don feel that much more vulnerable. "Mike!" He whispered. Silence had fallen, and Don's heart was pounding madly in his chest. "Mikey?"

Don let out a breath when Mike rounded the corner, adjusting his own black mask. "I'm here, I'm here. Jeez," he said.

It was disorienting to hear his brother's voice coming from the guise of the enemy. But, there was still one small problem that gave it all away: the strip of green that showed through around the eyes.

Beneath the mask, Don chewed his lip. Everything about this was wrong. Their disguises wouldn't fool a soul for any long period of time, and there was almost no guaranteeing they would even work in the first place. There had to be a hundred angry ninja on the other side of those doors, armed to the teeth and merciless beyond all reason. There was no guaranteeing they would make it out of this alive. Chances were even slimmer for Leo and Raph. That is, if they hadn't been executed already.

The thought nearly made Don physically ill, desperation making his heart pound. It was that gnawing in his stomach again, like he'd swallowed a vat of hydrochloric acid. But there was no turning away from this. They'd been searching for too long to turn back now. Their_ brothers_ were in there, counting on them, looking their deaths in the eyes. Don gripped his bo, spun it quickly and pushed it into his belt behind his shell. "Okay," he breathed. His hands were shaking when he reached for the door handle. "Stay close and keep your head down. Just blend into the crowd and we'll… we'll have to figure it out from there."

That was the worst part. They didn't have even a fraction of a plan.

Beside him, Mikey nodded solemnly, but it still wasn't enough to chase the fear from his eyes. "You… think we have a chance?"

Without taking his eyes from Mike's, Don pushed open the door. A bolt of renewed terror made him suddenly weak at the knees. He knew by then that it was hopeless, but the light in Mikey's eyes was enough. The truth would destroy him. So instead, he lied.

"Yes."

One word, one syllable, the embodiment of false hope. As they stepped through the threshold toward their imminent doom, it was the only thing keeping Don from running. They had a lie and they had one another. If they managed to kill his brothers, he wasn't sure if life would be worth living anyway. He would sacrifice it all to stop it.

* * *

_Raphael sat on his bunk, his hands balled into fists in his lap. It felt like he'd been sitting in the dark for ages, just listening to his heartbeat slow in his chest. He'd never been that angry in his entire life. He'd been mad before, sure, but nothing like that. He'd never wanted to hurt his brothers like that. He'd never hated like that._

_He had his back turned to the door when there was a knock, but he didn't answer. He knew it was Master Splinter coming in to tell him how much dishonor he'd brought on himself and everyone else. He'd been counting down the seconds until Sensei would walk through that door, so disappointed. It made him sick to think of the things he might say._

_The door clicked open, letting in the light from the hall. He didn't turn on the light switch, but crossed the room in his silent way, and sat beside Raphael on the bed. No one said a word. Raph was still staring at his hands._

"_Your brother is very upset," Splinter said softly, breaking the silence. _

_Something inside Raphael twisted, but he silently told himself he really didn't care. If Leo hated him, then fine. He hated him too._

"_Hate is a very strong word, my son. I do not think you are aware of its magnitude." Splinter sighed at his son's lack of response. "Telling your brother you hate him is far more devastating than any physical wound you could ever inflict. It is an ugly thing that an honorable warrior would not wish upon even his greatest enemies. Within your heart, you love Leonardo more than you can understand. You may believe you dislike him now, but he is your brother. One day you will realize how important he is to you, no matter your differences. In this world, all we have is one another."_

_Raph drew his knees to his chest. For a moment, Splinter feared it was a gesture meant to strengthen the wall. That barrier was growing stronger every day, and he feared it was just a matter of time before his son separated himself completely from the rest of the world. It was a dangerous thing— so silent, but terrifyingly lethal. If his son was so determined to block out the world, he would never discover the happiness it could bring. He would never give himself a chance to live and grow outside the boundaries of his own shadow._

_If Raphael was allowed to slip away—Splinter couldn't even force himself to imagine what could become of it. He placed a gentle paw on his son's knee, willing him away from the dark place. Thankfully, he unraveled. "Where do you go when you wander so far away?"_

_Raph sniffled, wiping his beak with the back of his hand. Still, he had his eyes fixed straight ahead, staring blankly into nothing. Splinter let the seconds tick by, waiting for an answer. He knew in time, it would come._

"_I don't know," he whispered, as distant as his gaze._

_Splinter wrapped an arm around his son's narrow shoulders, gently pulling him closer. "Come," was all he had to say. Within an instant, the walls came crumbling down, and Raphael surrendered to his father's warm embrace. _

_He rested his head against Splinter's chest, almost entranced with the steady heartbeat he found there. His throat was tight, fresh tears pricking his eyes. "Is Leo really sad?" He croaked, finally looking up into his father's eyes ._

"_I do believe so," Splinter said quietly._

"_I'm sorry. I don't hate him. I didn't mean it."_

_Splinter kissed the top of his son's head. "It is all right, my son," he murmured. "But it would mean the world to Leonardo if he knew."_

* * *

They were alive. _Thank the gods, _they were still alive. Don was flooded with a confusing mix of horror and relief when he spotted Raph on the platform, a sword pressed to his throat. He looked like death, obviously losing the battle with a hidden pain. Don could see him trembling from where he stood almost thirty feet away, gasping for air with barely enough strength to stay kneeling.

Above all, Leo was the most terrifying. He was drenched in a spatter of dried blood. From this distance it was hard to tell how much of it was his own, but it had stained his arms and plastron, even his face, with a sick rusted brown. When they entered, he'd been speaking to the crowd, but the boos and jeers had drown him out.

Don flinched when someone's hand wrapped tight around his wrist. With all the adrenaline rushing through his veins, Mike was lucky that move didn't earn him a bo to the head. They were practically swimming in their life-long enemy, bodies crushing in all around them, their shoulders brushing against his, their breath and sweat making the air humid. But the look in his brother's eyes was enough to make Don instantly forgive him.

He hated that look. It was terrified and helpless and lost, so lost. There on his brother's face was everything Don was trying to convince himself he didn't feel. He couldn't look. He had a mission. He didn't have time for that.

They pushed their way further into the crowd until they were about twenty feet from the platform. It was then that something in the air had changed. People exchanged whispers as the sword was taken away from Raph's throat.

"What's going on?" Don asked the ninja standing beside him.

"That _rat _believes himself worthy of restoring the Mistress's honor," he hissed without taking his eyes away from the platform.

"Who is he?"

"He claims himself to be clan leader," the ninja spat. "He is not worthy of licking the ground the Mistress walked upon. We serve the Shredder, not this fool!"

Mikey shot Don a look of panic, his eyes wide under the black mask. He leaned in close and whispered, "Donny… I think they _killed _Karai_._"

Don frowned. If that was the case, he could use this chaos to his advantage. They were leaderless, and by default, directionless. Still, they were up for one hell of a fight. They had never faced this many ninja at once. But they had known that coming in. There was no way in they were leaving without their brothers.

This leader guy, the self-proclaimed second-in-command, was the biggest threat. He was the last thread of order holding together this hoard of angry men. If he was out of the picture, they would have no one to lean on. He was their ticket out of there.

Don turned back to the ninja beside him. "If he's not worthy, then why isn't anyone doing anything about it? I'm sure the… _Mistress _would be pretty upset if someone like him took her place."

The ninja shot him a fierce look and Don had to quickly turn his head. "I don't care who kills the beasts, as long as it's done," he snapped. "Once they are dead, we will decide what will happen to this fool."

The acid chewed at Don's stomach again. He could only watch helplessly as the scarred ninja put the blade back to his brother's throat.

"He will probably be killed," said the ninja, almost as an afterthought.

That was enough waiting. That man was going to slice his brother's throat open any second. He had to act. Fishing into his belt, Don withdrew a single razor-bladed shiruken. He offered Mike a flash of metal, and pointed to his target. Mike nodded grimly. Within a second, the shriuken cut through the air and buried itself in the ninja's neck, severing his jugular vein. He collapsed bleeding onto the stage. Three seconds, that's all it took. Three seconds and the Foot Clan was rendered leaderless.

Stunned silence gripped the crowd. Their leader gasped and dropped his sword, hand traveling to the gushing wound, then crumbled like a fallen tree into a bloody heap. His eyes rolled back and mouth gaped open, dark blood pooling into a lake haloing his head. Just a gasp, a deathly clap of silence, then all hell broke loose.

The crowd of ninja were moving like a single creature toward the platform. The ninja that once stood at attention behind their brothers had moved forward, weapons drawn. Leo was thrown to the ground beside his brother. One ninja raised his sword, but was stopped by the others before he could deliver the killing blow.

The ninja Don had been talking to turned to face him. His glare was a weapon all its own. "Why did you do that?" He hissed. Then suddenly, his eyes widened and he was reeling backwards, drawing his weapon. "You're one of _them!"_

Don grabbed his bo, every muscle wound like a chord as he slid into a defensive stance. Mikey was behind him, weapons drawn, their shells scraping together from beneath black fabric. They'd been discovered, and now they were completely surrounded.

With the force of one hundred ninja crushing down upon them, Don and Mike were standing in the wake of the battle for their lives.

* * *

_A/N: *Bounces around in her padded room* Good lord it's not done yet! Oh no, STILL not done! This is the fic that NEVER ENDS! It just goes on and on and on and on and…_

_Okay. Let's try this again before I have a REAL mental breakdown. I PROMISE the next chapter will be the last. I just keep on adding to my ending and it's gotten so lengthy I can't fit it in a single chapter. First it was supposed to be broken into one, then two, now three!_

_Please review me. I think I'm having a crisis here XD_

_~Willowfly_


	15. Chapter 15: Battle Scars, the Broken

_A/N: __**Warning: There will be blood. This chapter contains violence of a graphic nature. **_

_But if you're even minutely familiar with my writing, you shouldn't be so surprised. Also, this beast turned out to be really freakin' long, so don't hold me accountable if you go blind XD_

* * *

Chapter 15: Battle Scars, the Broken

The shiruken ripped through the air and pierced the man's throat before he could flinch. Leonardo had seen it, heard it embed into flesh, heard it choke his life away. But there was a small twist in his gut as the man collapsed amidst the sudden silence. He could have sworn he recognized that shiruken.

Leo's eyes flicked over the crowd, searching for his savior. Or, perhaps not a savior but a buyer of time. Still he had the surest feeling that his brothers were close. He could feel it in his marrow.

But all was forgotten when a wet gurgle of blood erupted from the man's mouth. Even if rescue never came, he could still watch the tattered scraps of the Foot Clan collapse in its misery and know it was worth it.

The scarred man had escaped death more than once; that was apparent. It had left its mark on him before. To see the light dimming in his eyes felt right, like the fulfillment of destiny. Wide-eyed and open-mouthed, the crowd looked on. The lingering embers of the Foot were extinguished like a candle's flame. It too was a fulfillment of destiny.

His eyes lost their fire and his weapon clattered on the floor. His writhing body lay still. Leonardo breathed. His eyes connected with Raphael's and he wished his brother could hear the screaming in his mind, _Never give up, outouto._

_Never give up._

He had expected chaos. The tattered threads of what held the angry hoard together had been cut, and the warehouse erupted into sudden war. All sound was eclipsed by the furious cries of one hundred blood-drunk men.

The ninja from before—the guard, the challenger—stepped forward with his weapon drawn, his sights on Raphael. "Useless _dogs!" _He spat haughtily. "I will make quick work of these creatures and show you fools true worth."

But in a moment, another guard was standing in his way. He too had his sword drawn, a venomous look in his eyes. "You are too bold, Niza. Bold and foolish as the rest of them!"

Leo didn't move as the guards stared poison into each other's eyes. Then, a ripple. The first guard charged into an attack, bellowing. "You dare challenge me!?"

His sword plunged through the ninja's abdomen. The second guard choked, then collapsed as the sword was ripped from his flesh. With Raph and Leo now forgotten in this sudden battle for power, the guard raised his blood-soaked sword and called over the crowd. "To arms! All who wish to follow me, slay all who oppose!"

Then, hell broke loose. Foot ninja cut down their own comrades in a flash of steel and crimson while others never broke their focus. They moved toward the platform with huger written in their eyes, thirsting for the blood of the beasts marked for slaughter.

As the crowd rushed forward, Leo dodged the first attacks and reached for the fallen man's sword. Unyielding to the pain erupting from the stab wound in his plastron, he drew the weapon from its puddle of gore, ignoring the sticky blood coating the hilt. He let them come to him, standing over his injured brother with rekindled fire in his eyes.

He was bleeding and half-starved, beaten and destined to die, but fight he would. It too was written in his destiny. Even in the end he was a warrior. That was one thing that could never be broken.

He had to move quickly. The guards rushed forward from behind with their blades drawn. Raphael's eyes were wide, but bleary and hollow, already mourning a loss that hadn't come. He looked his own death in the eyes.

They were storming the platform, and the first guard's katana was poised for a killing blow. Leonardo lurched forward and slay him where he stood, a sick sound like a kiss as the blade was unsheathed from his stomach. More blood flowed.

Three more attacked—two with chains, one with a dagger. More were piling on like ants spilling from a hive to avenge yet another would-be leader, the death of one replaced by two. Leo stayed close to his ailing brother, killing without mercy as the wall of ninja closed in. Shiruken embedded into his shell. He could hear the hollow rip as a plate was torn deflecting the chain of a kusarigama.

The pain erupted like hot poison with every strike, flowed through his veins and increased with every move. But that wouldn't stop him. The swipe of a dagger penetrated his defenses and the arm of his assailant fell lifeless on the floor before his throat could be cut.

Still, they swarmed, and Leo quickly found himself exhausted, limbs trembling and lungs aching for air. But still he had to fight. He had to bleed, cut down more, regain his honor and die knowing he had done all he could.

He would tear this place to the ground if he must. Death was a certain thing. At least he would die with a purpose, and take the last vestiges of the Foot Clan with him. It would be an honorable death.

But Raphael had surrendered. He could feel it. He kneeled limply on the concrete while the battle waged around him. It was yet another reason why Leo couldn't give up. Raphael had always known he would die fighting. That was his own destiny, and Leonardo would kill to ensure his brother would live to fight another day. When his body and soul have been healed, his fate would find him. But not tonight. This was just a crossroads.

Leonardo had no purpose other than this—to protect his brothers and his clan. If that was accomplished, he would gladly bathe in the blood of his enemies, then die willingly and alone. With the death of Karai he has fulfilled half his purpose. The other half was to get his wounded brother out of there alive, even if it killed him.

He had to be the first. Leo had always known that living without a brother would be a fate worse than death. That was destiny as well.

Then, in a heartbeat, he lost sight of Raphael. His rocketing pulse gave him clarity as he broke free of the last wave of attackers. A ninja howled as Leo's blade met his face, cutting his mask away and revealing a ruined eye weeping milky fluid into the bloodied slash. The man dropped his weapons and clawed at the open wound with an inhuman yowl of pain.

He was tired of playing defense, more tired than he had ever known. He roughly pushed the injured man aside and flipped over the crowd closing in on his brother. But when he landed, his knees buckled, the pain threatening to blind him. He blinked and the room was nothing but eerie white and silhouettes, deafened to anything but his heartbeat as the sickle of a kame was swung at his face. He ducked the arc of the blade and found Raphael. Adrenaline restored his vision and numbed his wounds again.

"Raph! This isn't over yet!" His voice was strained, breathless and raw even as he met his brother's eyes. "You have to fight!"

Raph was still on his knees, his head hung heavy and sapless. He'd been waiting for the killing blow for what seemed like centuries, even if it had only been seconds. He'd never felt so defeated.

But he'd agreed to this. Back in the cell, he agreed they would kill the bitch and go down fighting. He remembered that feeling—smiling into his brother's eyes and at his doom in the same moment.

Slowly he felt himself detaching from the world around him. He knew Leo was there, fighting over him, protecting him for reasons he couldn't remember. His head was swimming and the blood… so much blood. None of it had a reason.

Then he blinked, and it was gone.

He was standing in the kitchen, hands clenched into fists. The ruins of the breakfast table were scattered at his feet. Old blood dried and flaking on his arm and the memory of a wrongful death fresh in his mind, questions of honor spat like a poison, his father's worried eyes.

He had no reason.

He turned to see Leo, face round with youth, crumpled under the strain of hidden tears. Broken dishes on the floor, a broken chair. Insults turned to fists. Leo watched him with wide eyes, blood running from his beak. The words spilled from Raph's lips before he could stop them. _"I hate him!"_

Defeated. Leonardo bowed his head and silently left the room.

He had no excuse.

In the dojo, the door was blocked. Leo stood in his way, one katana drawn. Always in the way. He was _always_ standing in his way. A pause. The walls crumbled. Leo's fist connected and his vision skipped. The taste of copper in his mouth, a streak of red on his hand, spat on the tatami. Old wounds finally repaid, blood for blood.

Then, dark. A dark room, his brother like an anchor in the land of fever dreams. The smell of copper in the air.

A child again. Fists clenching, unclenching, sitting on the bunk with his father beside him. His voice so distant, like a dream. _"Where do you go when you wander so far away?"_

"_I don't know…"_

"_I'm sorry. I don't hate him. I didn't mean it…"_

He never had a reason.

"Raph!"

Raphael blinked again. The sound of his brother's voice sent him crashing head-long back into the heat of battle. He was still on his knees, but that fatal wound had not yet come. He reached up and touched the sting of a cut across his throat. The ninja's blade had just barely bitten into his skin. Blood on his hand, on the floor, on his brother's sword and in his eyes.

He'd been so sure he was dead.

"I'm sorry. I can't… I…" His voice was full of gravel. He wasn't sure if he was awake or dreaming. But this pain was real. All this blood was real. These weapons—it had to be real. "You hafta to leave me here. You'll die if you stay. I ain't worth it."

His words barely carried over the sound, but Leo's gaze was bright with adrenaline, locked intensely with his own.

"So you're going to just lay down and die?" He spat. He was still fighting, adding more blood to the gore and sweat that bathed his skin. "I know you better than this. I'm not going anywhere. Pick up your weapon and fight, damn it!"

As Leo beheaded a ninja wielding a bo, Raph's mind cleared enough to see the weapon his brother was talking about. The severed arm—he remembered the sick sound of it hitting the floor. That ninja had been holding a dagger. He could see the promise of a blade though the gore.

It was then that Raphael finally found his reason. He was the realist, yes. The shadow, most definitely. But most important of all, he was the avenger. For now the streets could wait. He had his family's honor to restore, and after all they'd gone through, there was no denying that tonight they would make it out of this alive or go down fighting like hell.

Painfully, he scrambled to the knife. He was starting to lose feeling in his bad leg after all of this battering around. He knew that wasn't a good sign, but he pushed it to the back of his mind. He could forget about it for now. He had his weapon, and now, he had a reason to fight.

He would have to make it out of this so he could tell Leo how much of a moron he was. As he buried the dagger into a man's shoulder, he prayed that someday he'd get the chance. He had twenty years worth of being an asshole to make up for.

Still, he knew he couldn't keep this up for long. He could barely stand on his fine leg or even move without the room spinning, and his fighting ability suffered. But that just meant he'd have to think outside the box. The lights, for one, had to go. That was something he could do.

There was a fuse box on the wall just a short distance to the right. He had a dagger and pretty damn good aim. Raph held his breath and let the weapon go.

As Leonardo fought, more shiruken cut into his carapace, more blades bit into his flesh, and more blood stained him. Everything around him melted into a blur of movement, distant like a dream until he was battling outside his body, watching the blood spill from above. There was another fight breaking out in the crowd below, a distant rumble and the cries of killing blows.

They were killing their own like a hungry pack of wolves, and this time he was more than certain that somewhere in the chaos, two more had joined the fray.

Then, the lights went out and a sharp twinge of terror raced through his muscles. Still, he could see his brother's eyes in the dark. Tiredly, he smiled, and fought on. Raph would face the dark beside him. That gave Leo all the strength he needed.

* * *

"There's too many of them!" Michelangelo yelled. "It's like fighting with a blender! We can't hold them back much longer!"

Bringing his nunchaku down on a skull, a hip, a crack of bone and broken ribs, he tried to forget the mental death toll that was growing with every strike of weapons. His heart was racing in his chest, just trying to keep his head above water in wave after wave of ninja.

He was getting winded, and if he was getting winded, then Leo and Raph were probably half-dead by now. As he dodged the arc of a katana, he shook the thought from his head. Strike after strike he would keep fighting until his brothers were safe. That's all he cared about. He had to get them out of there, no matter what it took.

And if they didn't, then these bastards were gonna pay.

"Donny!" He cried, dodging another swing of the blade. Donny had to have a plan by now. He was smart. He thought about these things. He _had _to.

Don swung his staff in a wide arc, taking three men down with it. He hated this senseless killing. He hated all this blood and murder. But this time the pacifist in him was taking a back seat. He'd seen what they'd done to his brothers. He'd seen Leo standing there covered in blood. He'd kill if he must, and for now, it looked like he had no other option. These jerks had a bill to pay.

Mikey's voice rang over the nauseating crunch of a broken clavicle. He ignored it for the swing of a manriki, blocking it with his staff. The chain wrapped around his weapon and the ninja gave a sharp tug meant to yank it from his hands. But a well-place kick to the gut sent the man flying, leaving his chain to unravel limply on the floor.

Don barely had time to stop and think with ten attacks closing in on him at once. The ninja with the chain was up again, unleashing another strike. This time Don simply ducked, letting the chain connect with the skull of the ninja behind him, and cutting the legs out from under another with his staff. There was a reason chains weren't good for close-combat fighting, and it seemed these ninja rejects needed a lesson on the reasons why.

"DONNY!"

"I hear you!" He called back. "They should be here!"

April and Splinter and Casey with the Battle Shell. _They should be here._

But where the heck were they?

Cold panic was sinking its fingers deep into his stomach. The room blurred together in an endless flash of blades and bodies. But he couldn't give up now. Just a little longer—they had to keep fighting just a little longer, and things would begin to pull through.

That was one of only two options. He didn't like the other one bit.

He met Mike in the middle of a clearing they'd carved with their weapons. Back-to-back they fought off every new wave of attackers with a growing sense of dread.

At least these ninja were amateurs. Don could tell from the mistake with the chain, the way one with a tanto leaned to the left, the way another with a kame forgot to defend his lower half. But as the Foot Clan always went, they seemed to crank out ninja assembly-line style—cheap quality, but enough at once could wear out even the most skilled ninja.

He was definitely feeling those effects now. His lungs burned with every breath and the sweat in his palms made his grip uneasy. Swinging his bo into a low sweep as Mikey swung his nunchaku high, he was just about to suggest a change of action when everything shifted without warning. There was a cry and a fizzle of electricity. The lights above them flickered and Don caught sight of a dagger embedded in the main power supply's fuse box right before the warehouse snapped into darkness.

It had Raph written all over it.

_They're still alive, _he thought, _but for how long?_

At least the dark was more than familiar. In fact, it was a welcome change. Foot Clan ninja knew the dark well, but didn't _live_ to know it. For his brothers, the dark was as familiar as the humans' daylight, and he would use that small advantage to its fullest.

He could work with this.

"We need to move to the platform!" He choked out, trying to control his breathing. While the amateur ninja faltered with the sudden change, Donatello would thrive. If they could meet up with Raph and Leo fast enough, they could hold off the rest of the hoard until April came with the Battle Shell.

As he cut a path through the warring ninja, who had apparently turned against their own along with the main battle against the turtles, Don wondered if this is what Leo had seen in him before—the qualities of a leader. It was a side of himself Don was happily unfamiliar with. There was too much blood, too much anger, too much hate in this part of him. It was a piece he would gladly forget.

As he fought, Don watched Mikey cutting down his enemies in the periphery. This too was a side of his brother he didn't like to see. The blank look of determination and the strikes so ready to cave the skulls of living men was terrifying. He hadn't seen it since the Battle Nexus, and even now it made him tremble.

Make Mike mad enough, take away his reason to laugh, and you unearth a merciless killer whose skill and speed could rival even Leo's.

All the more reason they just couldn't fail.

It took them nearly five minutes to push forward thirty feet, but they made it. Mike almost smiled at the carnage left in his brothers' wake. The severed limbs and writhing forms had Leo's signature all over them. He was definitely still alive, and better yet, he'd found himself a sword.

Then he heard it—his brothers' voices—and something inside him fluttered. His blind anger cleared away like storm clouds, and then, he really did smile. He used punches and disarming blocks instead of weapons as he pushed through the final layers of the crowd, stumbling happily into the bloody clearing.

And then it happened—he let his guard down. A ninja's katana went for a downward strike and Mike saw it just a little too late. He held his breath and waited for the pain.

But when he opened his eyes, the clang of metal met his ears instead of the sound of steel biting his flesh. Nunchaku spinning again, he breathed a sigh of relief and found Leo standing in front of him, saving his skin with a block not a moment too soon.

That was his big brother, all right.

As Leo cut down his attacker, Mikey saw his haggard face by the light pouring in from the skylight above. If he hadn't been so relieved, he would have cringed, but instead he returned Leo's weak smile.

"Watch yourself, little brother," Leo rasped tiredly, pulling back his stolen sword. "You always… let your emotions… get the best… of you."

Mikey let out a sound of surprise as his brother's eyes rolled back and his knees gave way. Weakly, Leo fell forward into his brother's waiting arms.

"I gotcha," Mikey promised, still trying to fight with his brother leaning heavily on his shoulder, just barely clinging to consciousness. "April's coming with the Battle Shell. We'll get you outta here!"

This was going to be difficult. At least the crowd had started thinning and some of the stragglers had begun retreating back into the shadows. The battle was almost over, and the wise ones would cower into the dark until next time. The others wouldn't be quite as lucky.

Mike's eyes darted to Don and Raph, still biding their time against the remaining few. Raph was shaking like a leaf, but refused to take Don's help.

There were only a handful of surviving ninja left among the gory mess of their fallen comrades when an explosion erupted from the far wall, tearing open a fiery hole of rock and rubble in side of the warehouse building. There was a moment of hesitation among the remaining few who'd dove out of the way of the partially collapsed ceiling and sparking electrical wires. The smell of diesel and rancid smoke filled the air and the building's heavy iron framework groaned. Small chips and dust motes showered their shells as the turtles bit the concrete in their desperate search for cover.

But as the smoke cleared, the familiar rumbling of an engine thundered over the groaning ruins of the building. Then, the sound of a car horn and Casey's voice broke the silence. "Yo!" He called from the window. "One ninja turtle rescue van atcha service. You want it or what?"

Dizzy with relief, Mikey scrambled to his feet, slugging an only barely conscious Leo's arm over his shoulders. "She let _Casey _drive?"

Don didn't have the time to physically face palm. The ceiling was moaning and buckling over its ruined supports and the sparks from a few severed electrical cables were sparking little fires everywhere they could. Offering Raph a hand, Don couldn't help glaring in Casey's general direction. "Casey, that fool! He compromised the building's main supports! He'll crush us flat!"

Coughing on the smoke and dust, Raph rolled over on his shell and leaned against a fallen heap of cinderblocks. "So much for a rescue mission," he choked, taking Don's hand. Still, he couldn't help chuckling a little. "But the guy sure knows how to make an entrance."

"Always wanted to use those missile things you guys been talkin' about!" Casey crowed out the driver's side window, looking rather proud of himself. However, everyone else seemed more concerned with getting the hell out of there before Don's prediction came true.

Even with the weight of an entire building threatening collapse above their head, the mood had physically lifted. Bruised, broken, battered, and exhausted, they dragged themselves around the idling truck and were gladly helped inside by April and Master Splinter, relief written all over their faces.

Once the doors were closed, Casey punched the gas and tore through the ruins of the warehouse at gut-wrenching speed. A teary-eyed April threw her arms around Leo, who seemed to be completely and utterly lost. Still, he hugged her back despite the glassy look in his eyes. When April moved to join Splinter in fretting over Raph's badly bruised and swollen leg, Leo sighed and leaned his head against the wall of the truck. Beside him, Don watched with a worried crease in his brow as Leo's eyes fought to stay open.

After a few seconds of struggle, Don thought he'd fallen asleep until he heard his brother speak again.

"Don?"

His voice was so tired, so weak it almost hurt. Donny found his brother's hand and gave it a squeeze. "Yeah? Are you okay?"

Leo didn't seem to hear him, only stared at him blearily and said, "You did good, brother. I always knew… you could be a leader."

Something tightened in Don's chest. He shook his head, not letting go of Leo's hand. "No. It doesn't feel right. I can do it if I have to, but not without you."

Leo only smiled faintly, losing the battle with his eyelids again. "You're stronger than you think, Donny. If I couldn't be there… I would choose you."

Don pulled his hand away. "No. We have you. There's no reason to—"

He stopped speaking when Leo mumbled something that made his stomach sink.

"I'm gonna sleep," he slurred. "You hafta promise… make sure… I wake up."

Just when he thought he'd run out of adrenaline, his heart was racing again. Still, he didn't want to show it. He took a deep breath, brushing it off as best he could, and nodded despite his brother's closed eyes. "Okay. Rest easy, bro. I promise."

Leo didn't respond. In a breath, he'd already lost consciousness, and Don tried his best to forget the alarming warmth of his brother's hand.

Instead he watched dreamily out the truck's rear windows as they wound through the city roads, putting the miles, the worry, the anguish, the fear—putting it all behind them. In the distance, he could see the last of the building finally collapse in the first clear light of morning.

* * *

Donatello bit his lip. It'd been almost twenty-four hours since the rescue and Leo had barely even stirred. He knew they'd be exhausted. Heck, they all were. But even Raph, as badly off as he was, had woken up a few times since. They were both badly malnourished and completely covered in grime of every different kind. Just by looking at them, he knew full well that if Mikey hadn't convinced him to abandon the plans and go searching on a whim, things could have turned out much, much worse.

Still, two weeks in those conditions had obviously taken their toll. That was aside from anything Karai had done in the meantime.

He couldn't deny it. He was glad she was dead.

Don at least had a chance to help Master Splinter clean and dress his brother's wounds, but he'd thought Leo would have woken up by now. He knew they had to get some food into him somehow. His blood sugar was probably dipping dangerously low.

But what worried him most was the filth. It seemed to be caked all over him in layers. At first April had been determined to get him clean. Seeing him covered in all that old blood made the past battles seem that much worse. Not to mention the smell. After a few hours it turned rancid and reeked of rotting flesh.

Bravely, April had taken a bucket of warm water and a sponge and had tried to scrub at the stubborn filth until she finally gave up. All that effort had barely made a difference. So instead they opted to clean his wounds the best they could and wait a few more hours to see if he'd awaken. Twelve hours later Raph was feeling a little more lively after a long sleep, a good meal, and a hot shower, but Leo still slept on.

Nearing the twenty-four hour mark, he'd broken into a cold sweat and his sleep had grown fitful. As Donatello feared, the warmth he'd felt on his brother's hand back in the Battle Shell had quickly spiked into a full-blown fever.

Now there was no denying the possibility of infection. They had to get him clean and find out what that sickening grime was hiding.

As Master Splinter and April helped lower his brother into the shallow bathwater, Don was almost afraid of what he would find. He immediately began scrubbing, loosening the layers bit by bit. Master Splinter watched on with his hand resting on Leo's forehead. When the rat closed his eyes, they knew he was trying to call back his son.

They sat in silence for a long while as Don sloughed off more rancid, rust-colored blood. Soon he was forced to drain and refill the tub, just to muddy the water again. Nervously, April had sat herself down atop the toilet, waiting for something to do. She'd never seen this kind of infection before. Usually the guys took such good care of their wounds. But this was different.

It just wasn't fair. As soon as they all thought it was over, they had to be given yet another reason to worry.

Still, she didn't have the heart to ask the question rattling around in her brain.

_He couldn't _die_ from this… could he?_

No, not Leo. That wasn't possible. Not after everything was over. Not after he was finally safe. This was supposed to be the happy ending. Besides, he was too strong for that. He was… just a little sick. That was all. Like the flu. People get fevers all the time and it wasn't a big deal.

But she had to remind herself that people usually didn't have big gaping holes carved into their stomachs. That wound had at least been fresh, and Don had cleaned and stitched it up. That gave her a little solace.

That is, until Don started uncovering the other cuts.

April almost flinched when Splinter opened his eyes and broke the long silence. "Donatello," he said, "you seem to have made a promise."

Don stared at his father, wide-eyed. He wanted to ask how Splinter knew, but he decided it was better not to question. There usually wasn't a how or even a why to explain it anyways, only faith.

No reason. Only faith.

As Splinter stood, Don leaned forward and gently shook his brother's shoulder. "Hey, Leo. Time to wake up. You told me to wake you up, bro. I promised you, remember?"

Don's heart fluttered as Leo began to stir. He called his name again, almost laughing with relief as his brother's eyes slowly opened.

"Hi, Donny," he slurred. "You… kept your promise."

Don was grinning like a child and he didn't care. "Of course I did. I don't know what we'd do without you."

Leo blinked at him slowly, frowning, then tipped his head sideways against the tub and gave April a small wave. "Hi April," he said tiredly.

April hesitated for a beat, looking a bit stunned before answering, "Hi Leo. Feeling better?"

Silently, he nodded before tipping his head toward Master Splinter. "Hello Sensei."

"Hello Leonardo," the old rat said with a small nod. "I am glad you have returned to us."

Leo turned away, staring blankly at the ceiling before closing his eyes again. "I am too."

Shortly after, April quietly left the room. The time for worrying was almost over, and she'd rather just give them their space. Sensing the same, Master Splinter followed her out.

"…Donny?"

Don paused. Leo's eyes had flitted open again, just as glassy as before.

"Yes?"

"Oh good." He breathed a shuddering sigh. "For a second, I thought I was hallucinating."

The bathroom fell back into silence as Leo seemed to drift off again. Never less, Don kept scrubbing, little by little revealing the straight, thin cuts that covered his body. Something inside him lurched as he uncovered more. Angry, puckered flesh rimmed the largest one—a gruesome line from the base of his neck to his collarbone.

These were too exact, too carefully carved to be battle wounds. And the way they had crusted over with yellow puss said they'd been there much longer than the stab wound.

"No wonder you have a fever," Don muttered.

As he carefully scrubbed around the red flesh on his shoulder, Leo winced, opening his eyes again.

"I'm sorry. Did that hurt?" As if it wasn't obvious. "These are pretty badly infected."

Leo didn't answer, just stared into nothing and blinked with heavy-lidded eyes.

Don wasn't sure if his brother was even aware enough to hear him, but decided it was at least worth a shot to ask. "Leo… how did you get these cuts?"

Leo sucked in a pained breath, but when he met his brother's gaze, his eyes had regained some of their clarity. "She wanted to find you. She wanted to hunt you. Kill you. Kill you while I watched." He visibly shuddered at the thought. "But I couldn't. I couldn't be the last. I couldn't be responsible. I'd rather die than let it happen. I didn't flinch. I wouldn't. Not for her."

Don was speechless. He rocked back on his knees, one word echoing in his mind. _Torture. _He grit his teeth. _She tortured my brother._

Yes. He was definitely glad she was dead.

"I don't want to be in the dark again, Donny," he whispered. There was a child-like fear in his voice. "She tried to break us."

Don tried to swallow, tried to ignore how pathetically young his oldest brother looked. All he could ask was, "Did she?"

"Yes."

Then, Don said something he didn't hear. He opened his eyes, but the bathroom lights seemed to dim, a fuzziness closing in on the edges of his vision he couldn't blink away. Somehow, he found Donny's hand and held it tight. _But we're so much stronger than that, _he thought. _We can't be broken forever._

He wanted say it, but he didn't have the strength.

* * *

_Raphael fidgeted outside his brother's door, completely unaware that his brother had been doing the same outside the kitchen just a few minutes before. _

_He'd never been good with words. Nope, never in a minute in his life. He was way better at mimicking the human kids topside than he was thinking up his own things to say. He really sucked at that kind of stuff. But apologies? Especially apologies to Leo? Now he really, _really _sucked at those._

_Taking a deep breath, he pushed aside the old felt blanket that made the doorway to Leo and Donny's room. He was feeling much less angry after his talk with Splinter, so maybe things would go better._

_That is, unless Leo started being a goody-two-shoes. Then all bets were off. He didn't care what Splinter would do to him. There was no way he was going to apologize if Leo was gonna to be a brat._

_But when he walked into the room, he certainly hadn't expected what he found._

_Leo was curled up on his bed, sniffling miserably and scrubbing frantically to hide his tears. But it was too late. Raph had seen him. There was no use. Still he turned away, burying his face in his pillow and trying to ignore the paralyzing wave of embarrassment that made him want to hide from Raph forever._

"_If you hate me, that's okay," he choked into his pillow. "I don't hate you 'cause you're still my brother, okay?"_

_Raph froze where he stood, completely stupefied to say the least. He'd never seen Leo cry like this before. Yeah, sometimes he would get all teary-eyed when he couldn't get a lesson just right, but this was different. Leo was sad. Like… really, really sad—because of him, because of what he said. _

_Who knew some stupid argument could make Leo cry?_

_Raphael hesitantly took a step forward, wringing his hands, and stammered, "Uh…Leo…um…." He cleared his throat, praying for the right words to find him. "I didn't mean that. I thought you woulda known I didn't mean it."_

_Leo peeled his face away from his pillow, tear-stained. "Really? But you—"_

"_Yeah, really. I just get mad. You know... Then I just say stuff."_

_There was a pause. Leo sat up for a better look, as if weighing the truth of his words with a thoughtful knot in his brow. "So you really wouldn't like me better as a regular turtle?"_

_Raph snorted, waving him off. "Nah, you'd be boring. Plus I'd hafta feed you and stuff and who wants that?"_

_Leo cringed at the thought. "Not me. You'd probably feed me something gross on purpose."_

_Raphael grinned deviously. "Yeah, probably," he sniggered, "but it would be funny!"_

_They giggled for a little bit, the awkwardness of the apology all but forgotten. Still, Leo did feel a whole lot better. He didn't feel like crying anymore, at least._

_Raph, however, felt utterly stupid. The only remedy he could think of was saying "So… um… do you want to play?"_

_Leo's eyes brightened. "Okay… sure!"_

"_Okay, we'll play then. But I get choose the game this time," he said slyly._

"_What do you wanna play?"_

"_Follow the leader. And this time, it's my turn."_

_Leo smiled deviously, sliding off the bed. "We can _pretend_, if you want," he teased. "Just don't do anything stupid."_

_Raph rolled his eyes, grinning an innocent look over his shoulder as he led the way out of the room. "Me? Do something stupid? Of course not. Now come on, I'll race ya."_

_That day the two brothers went deeper into the sewers than they ever had before. Together, they faced the dark and walked across Splinter's chalk lines, putting on the bravest faces they could. Forbidden miles away from home in the flooded sewer tunnels, they stumbled upon an adventure neither one would forget._

_That was the day they proved one of Raph's stories was true. There really were alligators in the sewers._

* * *

To Raphael, just sitting at home awake and alive wasting the day away in front of the TV was paradise. If circumstances were different, he would have called himself lazy and been bored out of his skull. But he decided that for now, he'd had enough excitement for at least a few months. Or, until his leg was healed up and Mike finally drove him crazy. Whichever came first.

Mikey hadn't left his side for a second after the rescue, and Raph found himself actually enjoying the company for a change. Leave it to a two week long near-death experience to make you appreciate the little things more.

It was six o'clock and time to fall back into the mind-rotting tradition of watching The Simpsons for an hour straight after the news, a giant bowl of popcorn between them. Raph sat patiently munching on popcorn with his casted leg propped up on the makeshift coffee table. Mike, with an entire rainbow of permanent markers spread out on the duct-taped armrest, was determined to decorate the ugly thing.

Don's improvised casts were never pretty, but they worked. That's all Raph cared about. Mikey, on the other hand, wouldn't have it.

"You always say you got a weird name," Mike said, stuffing his mouth full of popcorn between doodles and glances at the TV. "'least your name isn't Apu Nahasa-piña-colada-whatever-the-fuck."

"_Michelangelo…"_

Raph bit back a laugh when Mike almost choked on his popcorn, shrinking deeper into the couch cushions. Only Splinter could cover all the bases by only saying your _name _from a completely different room.

"Nice going," Raph smirked, chucking his brother playfully on the arm.

Mike only pulled a face and uncapped a green marker. "I think I'm gonna draw a pineapple," he mused. "Spongebobs's pineapple… under the sea."

Raph stared at him puzzled for a while until he was absolutely positive his brother was completely serious. But sure enough, there was the pineapple complete with window and door and god knows what else.

"I thought I told you not to draw anything stupid."

Mikey gasped in mock-offense. "Spongebob is not _just_ stupid, Raph. He's also awesome. He's awesomely stupid. There's a difference."

With a chuckle, Raph decided this battle not worth fighting in his present state, and opted for another handful of popcorn instead.

Shortly after, Don finally poked his head out of Leo's room and emerged into the living room looking utterly exhausted. Mikey, now completely engulfed in his art project, had sat himself down on the floor for a better angle. Don happily took his vacant spot on the couch, sighing heavily and helping himself to some popcorn.

Upon seeing Mike's colorful new creation, he quirked a brow. "Is that Spongebob?" He grinned, sending an apologetic glance at Raph.

Mikey glanced up excitedly. "You watch Spongebob, Donny? I never knew. I thought it was mind-rotting or whatever."

He was teasing. There was just the right hint of sarcasm in his voice. It was a subtlety not worth overlooking.

"I don't watch it _purposefully, _but you leave the TV on all day long. It's hard not to learn through osmosis."

"_Osmosis, _he says," Mike smirked. "You don't hafta cover up the truth with your smart words, Donny. You love it and you know it."

Raph and Don rolled their eyes almost simultaneously. Both knew better than to respond, 'lest they provoke the beast.

After a moment of quiet, Raph got the guts to ask, "So… how's Fearless?"

"He's awake, thank goodness. A little fevered still, but that should clear up soon. Those cuts weren't exactly clean."

"From what I remember, nothin' about that place was anythin' close to clean," Raph scoffed, helping himself to more popcorn.

"I can't believe you don't remember somethin' like that," Mikey gawked.

Raph shrugged. "I was pretty sick. Mostly I jus' remember feelin' like my bones were meltin'." There was a pause. He shook his head with a distant look in his eyes. "Leo really saved my shell back there, guys. I ain't gonna deny it. I owe him big. Seriously big."

Out of nowhere, Splinter seemed to have materialized behind them. "Perhaps Leonardo would like to hear that in person, Raphael. Assuming gratitude can only bring a person so far in justifying their actions."

Raph turned around to see his Sensei watching from the kitchen door, drying his hands on a dishtowel. "You know what, you're right, Sensei. I gotta talk to him."

Splinter nodded and retreated back into the kitchen. "That would be wise," he said. "And dinner will be ready once you are done."

Mikey's head shot up at the magic word. "Oooh! Dinner! Whatcha makin' Master Splinter?" He crowed, capping his markers as Raph pulled his leg off the coffee table.

"Chicken," Splinter replied.

Mikey's eyes lit up. "Ooooh! Chicken. I love chicken. Hurry up, Raph! Chicken!"

"I would if I could get up!" Raph huffed, fumbling for his crutches that clattered to the floor instead. "What's a guy gotta do for a little help around here?"

Luckily Don could take a hint and stood to give him a hand. After a few tries he was up, leaning on Don until Mike could hand him his crutches.

When Raph was finally up and standing, Don seemed to hesitate. "Just… um… try not to get him too excited, okay? He was pretty out of it yesterday, but he seems more lucid today. Still, just try to take it easy. Please?"

Raph rolled his eyes. "Jeez, Don. What do ya think I'm gonna do to him?"

Don didn't respond, but his expression immediately softened. For some strange reason, something inside him decided to click. It felt like he was seeing his brother's face for the first time in years. Raph saw it instantly and pulled Don into a one-armed hug.

"Ah, Donny, it's okay."

The hug should have felt weird under any other circumstance, but it didn't. Don wrapped his arms around his brother and squeezed as tight as he could. "I thought you were gone for good," he breathed, his voice cracking. "God, I was such a wreck."

Mikey, ever the empath, materialized at his brother's side, patting his shell. "It's true! You shoulda seen him, chowing Tums like Doritos."

Don pulled out of the embrace to throw Mike an incredulous look. "Better Tums than _actual_ Doritos," he sniffled.

Mikey grinned, draping his arm around his brother's shoulders. "So true. I bet I gained like, ten pounds. I don't even want to know. Donny, don't tell me! Seriously. I know you're thinking about it. Don't do it, bro! I don't think I can handle the truth!"

Raph chuckled. "You are so weird."

"We _could _put you on the scale, you know, to ease your worries. You do have to keep track of your _girlish figure, _after all," Don teased.

"Hmmm… how about no to _both _comments," he laughed. "And how about we let the cripple have his little secret meeting before he falls over, huh Donny-o?" Mikey had just started heading toward the living room with Don in tow when something hooked around his ankle and sent him sprawling flat on his face. He turned and glared at Raph's smug look hovering overhead. "Hey!"

Raph shrugged and started hobbling toward Leo's door. Still, he couldn't fight back a devious grin. "Don't look at me," he snickered, "I'm just a cripple."

* * *

Leo's room was dark and damp. The smell of stale sweat and sickness built like a barrier over the door. He shuddered at the dreaded familiarity, but forced himself in, closing the door behind him.

Raphael didn't remember much of the days they had spent together in the dark, but this was enough to bring back the pieces that remained. Most of it was just brief flashes of movement, the smell of damp and copper in the air, fever dreams. He remembered waking with his brother lying close, trembling, and covered in his own blood. He remembered the crack of bone, the fear in his brother's voice when he said, like a mantra, "_You're going to be okay."_

And, at least for now, that wasn't a lie.

He'd almost died back there. That was a part Raph didn't remember, but he was sure of it. He could feel it in his bones. If it wasn't for Leo, he would probably be long dead.

He had never been afraid of the dark before. He was always the one who'd chase down all the monsters, stare into the blackness like nothing could touch him. But the dark felt so much different now, and he knew that it had changed for Leo as well.

It took him a while to get himself lowered into the chair by his brother's bed, but when Leo didn't even stir at all the noise and Raph's cussing under his breath, he started worrying a little more about what Don had said.

That is, until his brother started to stir. He looked like he was about to wake up at first—his brow furrowed, mouth drawn into a tight line. But then that look of concentration paled into pure terror. He broke into a sweat and fought away the bed sheets until he bolted upright with a gasp.

Raph watched as Leo hunched over in bed, sweat-soaked and painfully gulping air. As his nightmare's surroundings faded back into the familiarity of his own room, his panic ebbed. That is, until something shifted in the corner of the room. He almost bolted out of bed, ready to defend himself, if it wasn't for the stab wound searing in his plastron as the stitches were pulled.

"Hey… hey, easy there," came Raphael's voice. "It's just me."

Leo breathed a sigh of relief. He hadn't expected Raph to be there. He blinked off the rest of the nightmare, already forgetting what it was about. Someplace dark, he thought, but that was gone now. Still, there was a strange chill in the air that pricked his skin. He couldn't fight back a shiver as he lay down and burrowed deeper into the blankets.

"You okay?"

"I'm fine."

Raph snorted something like a laugh. "Sure you are. 'least you're acting normal. Don said you been pretty far gone."

Leo offered him a sheepish smile from under his pile of blankets. "How's the leg?"

Raph fiddled with his crutches, eyeing his cast. Apparently Mike had added something extra to the Spongebob mural while he wasn't looking. That little bastard. A lady bug, a centipede, and a spider. Even after disappearing for weeks and almost _dying _more times than he could count, he still couldn't live the bug thing down. Figures. "Eh. It'll heal."

Just how _well _it would heal was anybody's guess. It probably would never be the same, but it was a small price to pay.

Leo nodded and closed his eyes again.

"Look. Leo…" He cleared his throat. "I just wanna say sorry for all the shit I pulled. Yanno… You really saved my ass back there. More times than one."

"And I would do it again." Leo opened his eyes, but Raph was busy fiddling with his crutches. "Raphael, you're my brother. I would _die _for you. Any of you. I'm sure you would do the same."

"I know, but… That night… I was being so damn selfish. I shouldn't have been like that, yanno? You were right. I've been endangerin' the family all along. Almost got all of us killed." There was a silence, but Raph still hadn't worked up the courage to look his brother in the eye. "But it's my thing, yanno. Everybody's got a thing around here an' all I got is this." He motioned upward and Leo assumed he meant the surface. "But what do you know about that," he scoffed. "You're the leader-guy. You got your shit all planned out for ya. To tell you the truth… I always been kinda jealous. Bein' the leader, bein' so damn perfect all the time. I always thought I'd make a better leader than you. Thought I didn't get what I deserved."

"I was never perfect, Raph. And I'm pretty sure you don't want to envy me. I was always a little jealous of you, really. If you're angry, you act angry. If you're happy, you let yourself be happy. You're not afraid to be yourself even if it means it makes you a little… weird."

That was enough to grab his attention. "Ha! Don't get me started on who's weirder than who. Don't want to get that fight goin' again."

Leo's eyes widened. "You remember that?"

"'course I do."

"It was one of the first big fights we ever had."

"I know. Kinda stupid, huh?"

"Yeah, pretty stupid." There was a pause, and Leo sighed, fiddling with the edges of the bed sheets. "Do you remember how well we used to get along? All those stories you used to tell me about the alligators?"

A dangerous look swept across Raph's eyes. He leaned in and whispered, "What about the man-eating ghost?"

"Yes! You told me he had maggots for eyes and went around ripping people's eyeballs out. You even told me you saw him once."

Raph threw him a suspiciously innocent look. "I did! I swear to god I did. You can't deny that there's some pretty weird shit out there. Plus, you _know _we proved the alligator one right."

"Oh, so is that what you were doing when you tried to wrestle the thing?"

"Well, duh. Of course that's what I was doin'!"

Then, Leo laughed. He just couldn't help himself. He laughed more completely than he had in a long, long time. It pulled on his stitches, but he didn't care. He just had to laugh because for a moment, it was the Raph he used to know sitting in there, laughing, talking about alligators. This wasn't the Raph that brooded on rooftops and split his knuckles punching walls. This wasn't the Raph that was so full of bottled anger it was like being trapped in a room with a landmine. This was the old Raphael he remembered from his childhood, the Raphael who was split so wide open, you could see every thought that crossed his mind. It was the Raphael that told stories about sewer monsters, just to prove he wasn't as scared as he actually was. It was the Raphael he'd been friends with— best friends—so long ago. Leo laughed, and Raphael joined in.

"You're full of it," he sighed, a smile on his face.

His brother was grinning. "Maybe I am."

"Raph, you have no idea. I had nightmares for weeks!"

Raph knuckled him lightly on the shoulder. "You never told me you had nightmares, Fearless."

"I told you I wasn't perfect."

His brother only smiled. Leo stifled a yawn, which Raph took as his cue to leave. It took him some maneuvering to get upright again, but he made it. "You're tired. Get some rest. That's all I wanted to say. Thanks for savin' my ass and alla that. I'm still tryin' to convince myself that I deserved it."

Leo huddled deeper under the blankets, already feeling drowsy. "You deserve it, otouto," he whispered, "more than you'll ever know."

Raph's hand was on the doorknob, taking one last look before he closed the door behind him. "Thanks."

As the door clicked closed, Leo was finally unafraid of the dark that followed. Sighing deeply, he closed his eyes and let himself drift into a dreamless sleep.

All this time he had been searching—years of running across continents, wandering forests, blood, chasing down the sewer tunnels with three pairs of feet in tow. The echoes of laughter, of innocence lost, his father's kind words and the inviting clink of soapy dishware. A mangled spider held in a child's hand.

But in the dark, Leo had stared down all those terrible things like two children staring across chalk lines. The boundaries, the nightmares, the dreams of what he found there, told in Raphael's young voice.

Beware the dark. Beware the things that lurk within. Put on your bravest face and plant your feet firmly on the ground. Not even the dark can sway you then. Not even the sharpest steel or harshest words can ever bleed you dry.

Life isn't a set of rules or codes to obey. It isn't lines that are never meant to be crossed. It's a gift that's meant to be savored to the last dying breath.

That was all it took for Leonardo to finally understand.

* * *

_A/N: Yay for happy endings and YAY for finished fics! What a relief._

_So…there's a little bit of background story to this fic I'd like to include, just in case you're curious ;]_

_I began writing Invincible during a pretty difficult time in my life. I had been on the brink of a huge falling out with my family, which landed me on the roughest path I had ever taken. I thought in the beginning that this fic had no plot at all, but looking back on it, this piece really is a reflection of my own life, not to mention good therapy! It's funny how a bunch of character study can turn into a mode of self-exploration, but I guess fifteen chapters can do that to a person._

_The chibi portion of this fic is very much based off my own experiences as well. I was always that hypersensitive time bomb ready to explode at the drop of a hat. It took me a long time to find the inner strength to plant my feet firmly on the ground and face my demons head on. The fight between Raph and Leo in the last chapter, as well as the blossoming resentment between them is very much a reflection of my relationship with my own brother. But as we grew, so did our bond. We've been through a lot together, and that seems to only bind us stronger._

_Luckily, things have been looking brighter for me and I have learned so much from my uphill battles. I suppose the most important lessons in life are those that cut the deepest. I bear the scars to prove it. In the end, it was completely worth it._

_~Willowfly_


End file.
